Family
by dncnmndy
Summary: Ian Doyle has escaped and is determined to make Emily pay, so he goes after her sister Anna. Emily finds herself in a deadly battle against her old nemesis as she tries to protect everyone around her and take Doyle down for good.
1. Chapter 1

**I know the Doyle saga was forever ago, but I've just now gotten around to actually putting this in writing. As you can tell from the summary, Emily's sister Anna is in the mix in this version. For those of you that haven't read my story "Sister Act", you don't really need to in order to get this story, but it might give you some good background on their relationship. Also, I've decided to pretend that Seaver doesn't exist, so she won't be here. Just for your reference, this starts out pre-"Lauren" and goes from there. Feedback is my favorite, so please feel free to leave reviews, comments, suggestions, criticism, any of it is much appreciated. Other than that, enjoy!**

*****I don't own Criminal Minds*****

* * *

Emily sat down at the table outside and braced herself. She wasn't afraid of many things. Spiders, snakes, the dark, none of it. She wasn't even afraid of dying. She put herself in the line of fire almost every day, and you couldn't do that if death made you squeamish. And when she thought about it, she realized she wasn't even afraid of Ian Doyle. Not of him. But of what he would do, not to her, but to her team, to her family. She stiffened when she heard his voice behind her.

"Hello Lauren. Oh wait, Lauren Reynolds died in a car accident, didn't she?" He settled in at the table across from her and she silently leveled her gun beneath the table.

"What do you want, Ian?"

"You," he said simply. Her heart was pounding. She knew it wouldn't be that easy. He read her face and must have seen something there because he continued in what he must have intended to be a reassuring tone. "Oh, not today. Don't worry about that. But soon."

"I've got a Glock leveled at your crotch. What's to stop me from taking you and the little ones out right now?" She was seriously considering it too.

"You'd never make it back to your car, and you know it." Emily still didn't lower her gun. If she took him out, consequences be damned, everyone around her would be safe. Or would they? Would Doyle have ordered his lackeys to carry on his mission no matter what? Probably. "Tell me," Doyle continued, as if he'd read her mind, "Does the lovely Penelope know the truth about you? Or is she too busy watching movies with Derek to care? Here you are, all alone, while Aaron sits at home with his son. Jack, right? And why didn't Dave ask you over for a glass of wine? Does he just like being alone that much or is it something about you? And JJ? You live close enough; you could have ridden the Metro with her and Dr. Reid." Doyle barked a laugh. "He does have some quirks, doesn't he?"

Emily fought to keep her face blank. "Come near my team, and I will end you," she threatened, but Ian wasn't finished.

"Your team? Tell me Emily, how can you build a team based on lies? What would they say if they knew the truth about you? About what you did to me? And to Declan?"

"You didn't get anything you didn't deserve." Emily fired back.

"And Declan? His fate?" Ian's anger was growing now. "Did he get what he deserved too?"

"I was protecting him." Emily told him. "From you."

Ian leaned across the table closer to her. "Well maybe I should protect your sister. Protect her from you Emily. What do you think about that? I could protect her just like you protected Declan."

He rose without another word and planted a soft kiss on the side of her forehead before walking away. "I wouldn't try to follow me if I were you," he called over his shoulder. As if his words had been a signal a red dot appeared on the table in front of her. Then another. They disappeared as quickly as they'd come but the message was clear: Ian wasn't alone.

Emily made herself sit still for fifteen minutes before she allowed herself to stand. Thankfully, her car was parked in the opposite direction from where Doyle had gone, so she didn't have to even appear like she was trying to follow him, which she had no intention of doing anyway.

Controlling the trembling in her hands she got in her car and fumbled with her keys until she got it started. She pulled out her phone and dialed Anna's number. Straight to voicemail.

"It's me. Call me as soon as you get this." Emily instructed. She tossed the phone on the seat next to her and drove back to her apartment. She knew Ian was probably having the place watched, so she knew packing up and heading out was not an option. Even so, she tossed some clothes in a bag and transferred a few important documents from her safe to a large envelope that she set on top of the clothes. She zipped it shut and shoved it under the bed next to Sergio's carrier. She'd run if she needed to.

She tried calling Anna again but only got her voicemail. Emily forced her worry to the back of her mind; she and Anna played phone tag all the time. When Emily was on a case or when Anna was in a meeting or on a home visit; it wasn't uncommon for them to leave two or three messages before they actually reached each other.

"Call me. It's important." Emily said. She changed in to her pajamas and set her Glock on the table by her bed. Then she grabbed it again and held it loosely in her hand while her other stroked Sergio's soft fur.

"I'm going to get this bastard, Serge."

* * *

"So what exactly are you saying, Reid?" Morgan asked the next morning, shooting him a laughing stare over the mug of coffee he was lifting to his lips.

"I'm not saying anything!" Reid sputtered, moving stacks of paper around on his desk.

"No, go ahead kid, I want to hear this."

"Hear what?" Emily asked as she walked into the bullpen.

"Reid's giving me dating advice." Morgan told her.

Emily barked out a chuckle and set her bag on her desk. Shrugging out of her coat she looked between the pair of them. "How exactly did this conversation get started?"

"Morgan was just discussing his latest weekend conquests." Reid lowered his voice on the last two words as if he was concerned about who was listening in.

"Wait, conquests?" Emily clarified, placing extra emphasis on the last letter. "As in, multiple?" She raised an eyebrow at Morgan. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised."

"Hold up, it's not like that." Morgan started to explain.

Emily held up a hand dismissively. "No really, I don't want to hear this."

"Princess, just shut up for a second, will you? I was talking about the two new purchases I made this weekend."

Reid almost spat his coffee out but Morgan continued hastily. "_Houses_ man. Houses. I bought two new ones, all run down and ready to be fixed up."

Emily laughed. "Morgan, it might benefit you not to use the word 'conquests' when you're not talking about, you know, your conquests. The poor doctor gets confused." She patted Reid on the head before collapsing into her chair.

"Tired, princess?" Morgan asked.

Hell yes she was tired; sitting up half the night expecting a psychopathic arms dealer to come bursting through your door will do that to you. But she wasn't about to tell them that.

"Haven't had enough coffee yet," Emily responded.

"I thought you switched to tea?" Reid asked.

"A girl can only take so much tea, Dr. Reid," Emily told him, standing and heading toward the small area that served as a kitchen.

She poured herself a generous cup and found herself glancing up towards Hotch's office. As she expected, he was hunched over at his desk, poring over a file that Strauss had no doubt needed his immediate input on.

Her mind unwillingly flashed back to the events of the previous night. Doyle threatening everyone she loved, including Hotch. And Jack. He knew Jack's name, which was what bothered her most. Would he really hurt Jack?

But she knew the answer to that; there was no doubt in her mind. Jack was at the same age now that Declan had been when things went down last time. Ian would see it as some kind of twisted revenge, substituting son for son. And for the first time, Emily was thankful for the events that transpired almost a year ago, when she and Hotch had first started seeing each other. She'd kissed him from her hospital bed with the entire team looking on. They'd pulled back from each other sheepishly but there wasn't any real awkwardness there, just tenderness. And a strong desire to do it again.

They'd both picked up on it right away. Jack, who'd always been close to Emily, was pulling away from her. He didn't run to greet her at the door and he didn't feel the need to hug her every time he saw her. Questions that normally elicited long winded tales barely got a one-word answer. And then Hotch had relayed the conversation that positively broke her heart.

Hotch had decided to talk to Jack at bedtime, when he was tired and usually more free with his responses. Hotch tucked him in and sat beside him, ruffling his hair.

"Jack?"

"Yeah Daddy?" came the response.

"Is there something bothering you?" Silence. Hotch knelt on the floor now so that he and Jack were at eye level. "Buddy if there's something wrong you know you can tell me. You can tell me anything, I won't be mad."

Tears welled up in Jack's eyes but he still didn't say anything.

"Jack, tell me what's bothering you. I'll fix it, whatever it is."

When Jack finally spoke it was barely more than a whisper. "I don't want a new mommy."

There it was. Jack thought Emily was going to replace Haley. The concept of romantically moving on was too much for a six year old to grasp and rightly so.

Hotch held Jack's hand when he spoke next. "Jack, no one is going to take your mom's place. No one ever could. Your mom was special."

"But you like Emily now," Jack said.

"I do like Emily," Hotch told him. "But if you don't like it when we spend time together, we'll stop."

"I don't wanna make you sad, Daddy," Jack said quietly. "But I don't want Emily to be my new mommy either."

Hotch squeezed Jack's hand reassuringly. "You're not making me sad Buddy. You could never do that." He stretched himself out on the bed next to Jack and held him until he fell asleep.

Emily had understood, she really had. She would do anything for Jack, even if it meant taking a step back from Hotch. They still shared the odd dinner when Jack was spending the night at Jessica's but there wasn't anything more. This was further reinforced by the fact that before long Jack had gone back to being his normal self. They both took that as a sign that they were on the right track with him and that they needed to stay there for a while. And if Emily wasn't around Hotch or Jack, well, she liked to think that Ian wouldn't see them as any special target.

As if on cue, Emily felt someone place a hand at the small of her back and she turned to see Hotch standing behind her.

"Hi," she said, shoving her thoughts aside rapidly. She tried to put a smile on her face.

"Rough morning?" he asked her softly.

Could she tell him? Should she tell him? Of course. She could and she should. He would understand, wouldn't he? He'd understand how she'd crossed the line with Ian because he'd crossed the line with Foyet…but she shook her head instead. "Late night."

Hotch looked at her with thinly masked concern and opened his mouth to say something but was interrupted by JJ, whose recent stint with the State Department had been short lived. From what Emily could piece together, JJ had made her supervisor's lives so difficult that when she asked to be assigned back to the BAU they hadn't given it a second thought. She'd passed her profiling exams with flying colors and was now on an even keel with the rest of them, not that anyone would have ever assumed she wasn't.

"Garcia says we have a case," she told them in the no-nonsense tone she preferred when trying to get things done. As she walked off to corral the rest of the team Hotch turned his focus back to Emily, blocking her way as she tried to make it to the conference room.

"You know you can tell me anything, right?" he asked her softly. It was so out of character for him to be this open but Emily had begun seeing the softer side of Hotch more and more.

She nodded and managed a smile. "I know. Let's go." She ducked past him and made her way to the roundtable room with him right behind her. They settled in at the table and Garcia began her spiel.

Even though Emily tried to stay focused, she found her mind wandering, brainstorming ways to track Ian down before he started hunting everyone in the room with her. She heard a buzzing sound and realized that her phone was vibrating wildly on the table. Everyone was looking at her and she wondered how long it had been going off without her noticing. She snatched it off the table and glanced at the caller ID. She didn't recognize the number so she hit the 'Ignore' button and set it on her thigh. The first thought that flashed through her mind was that it was Ian, calling to harass and threaten her some more. She turned her eyes back to Garcia but then felt her phone give a short burst of movement and she realized she had a voicemail. Ian wouldn't leave her a voicemail, it wasn't his style.

Momentarily appeased, she managed to listen in to the rest of the case. Someone was strangling red-headed women in Georgia. There was no evidence of sexual assault or any other trauma. Four were dead in the past three weeks and the timeline between the kills was escalating. Hotch had barely gotten the words 'wheels up in twenty' out of his mouth before JJ's phone rang. She glanced down at it and excused herself, stepping outside the conference room. Emily seized the opportunity to check the voicemail.

"You have one new message," the robotic voice droned in her ear.

"Yeah, no shit," Emily muttered. Morgan turned to look at her and she realized she'd actually spoken out loud. She flashed an apologetic smile and turned away from him. JJ was in her direct line of sight and had apparently just finished an intense conversation with whoever was on the other end of the line. Emily watched JJ pocket her phone and determinedly walk back in to the conference room.

"First message, sent today at ten oh three AM," Emily's phone went on robotically. JJ met her eye and Emily could tell by the look in her eyes that she wasn't going to like what JJ was about to tell her.

"Emily you need to see this," she grabbed the remote for the television and powered it on. It was tuned to a local news station and there was no need to change the channel.

The news anchors were discussing a breaking story with grim faces and Emily lowered her phone slowly, even as a voice she recognized spoke out of it.

"And now over to Robin who has the latest information from the scene of this tragedy." The screen cut to a shot of a short-haired brunette holding a microphone. Behind her was a scene of chaos; there were emergency vehicles everywhere running to and from the smoldering remains of what must have once been an enormous building."

"Thank you Lilly," the reported in the field acknowledged. "I'm standing in front of what can only be considered a calm scene compared with what it was at four o'clock this morning when the explosion happened." She paused long enough for the news station to show some helicopter footage that must have been taken earlier; the sky was dark, illuminated only by the large building engulfed in orange flames that leapt toward the sky. By the time they cut back to the reporter Emily was fighting to stay standing. She recognized that building.

"Behind me now, you can see the action still going on as firefighters and other rescue workers try to salvage what they can from the ruined building that once housed Second Chance, a transitional housing facility that was just getting ready to celebrate its tenth anniversary. In those ten years, community officials and residents alike agree that Second Chance has become something of a source of community pride, taking in those who were down on their luck and turning them back in to productive members of society," she paused for dramatic effect. "As of right now, it is unknown how many residents were in the building or how many made it out alive. The program's founder_ is_ believed to have been inside the building when it exploded. There's no word yet on if her body has been recovered."

Emily felt herself sink down unsteadily into a chair while her phone tumbled out of her hand as they flashed the founder's picture on the screen: her sister Anna.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds. I wish I did, but I don't.**

* * *

Emily was vaguely aware of Hotch's hand on her shoulder, steadying her, offering support but not giving it until she asked for it. Slowly, she looked around the room; Morgan was standing with his forehead leaning against the wall. She felt like she should go and comfort him, tell him she was sorry for his loss. Emily didn't believe for a second that either he or Anna had wanted their relationship to end, it was just that neither one of them had the time to maintain it.

JJ put Emily's phone back in her hand and Emily stared down at the small screen. She realized that the phone was still connected to her voicemail. _Now_ she told herself. _Now is the time to tell them. Play Doyle's message. They'll help you._

"To delete this message, press seven. To listen to this message again, press five," her phone chirped, completely unaware of the somber mood in the room. Emily pressed five and turned on the speakerphone; she'd play the message first and explain later.

Her heart raced with anticipation as her phone rambled on about the time of the message and dropped completely when she heard the person speak. It wasn't Doyle.

"Hey Em, its me." Anna's voice was raspy and she paused to cough. Morgan whirled around in a blur, his eyes wide. Garcia stopped sniffling. Rossi stopped trying to look appropriately sympathetic. Reid closed his gaping mouth. JJ squeezed her hand, Hotch, her shoulder. "Sorry to bother you, I know you're probably on a case or in a meeting or something," more coughing, "Listen, I don't know if you've seen the news yet. If you have, I'm fine. And if you haven't, I'm still fine." She cleared her throat. "My phone got lost in the fire, so I'm using a prepaid cell right now. Call me when you get a chance, okay? 555-9066. Love you Feathers."

"To delete this message, press-" her phone began, but Emily hung up and started dialing rapidly.

"Feathers?" Reid asked softly.

"Long story," Emily said tersely, her impatience growing with each ring. There wasn't an answer and she hung up in a huff of frustration. Garcia grabbed the phone from her and dialed it herself.

"You missed a number, cupcake," she said gently, emotions under control now that she knew that Anna was okay. She passed the phone back across the table.

"Hello?"

Emily closed her eyes and composed her face even though Anna couldn't see her.

"Anna." It was meant as a question, but it didn't come out that way.

"Hey Em. Sorry, I grabbed the phone before I looked at the number." Her voice was still hoarse, but not as bad as it had sounded in the message she'd left earlier.

"Are you okay?" Emily's eyes fell on Morgan, who was looking like he wanted to rip the phone out of her hand. "Hang on; I'm putting you on speaker." She hit the button and set the phone on the table. "Now, are you okay?" she asked again.

"Aside from feeling like I've had a two pack a day habit for the last forty years, yes."

"Anna, you're only thirty one." Emily said with a smile.

"Well, they say smoking ages you." Anna gave a cough that could have been meant as a laugh and Emily felt some of the tension leave her body. She saw Morgan suppress a smile and knew that her relief was mirroring his.

"You're okay though? Because you know I could have Garcia hack the police records and find out for me." Emily flashed a smile at Garcia who readied her fingers over the keyboard just in case. She rolled her neck and bounced her shoulders theatrically.

"I'm _fine, _Em," she paused, as if working it out in her mind. "Ah. What are they saying on the news?"

"That you're dead."

"Well, I can assure you that that's not the case. What else?"

Emily hesitated, wondering how much Anna actually knew. "Emily, what else are they saying?" Anna prompted her.

"That they don't know how many people got out and how many were trapped when the building exploded."

"Wrong again, everyone got out," Anna reported. "I made sure everyone was out before I left. Where do these guys get their information? Sic JJ on them for me, will you?"

"I'm all over it," JJ piped up from the doorway.

"Anna, they're saying that the building is gone." Emily said, half questioningly and half declaratively.

"That part is true. It's gone." Negative emotion clouded Anna's voice for the first time and she must have realized it because her next statement was purposely upbeat. "But everyone's safe, which is the most important thing. And I've wanted to remodel anyway, so now the timeline's just moved up a little bit."

Emily shook her head at the eternal optimism Anna projected, even though she had to be hurting. But she had to ask her next question because she had to know if Doyle was behind this. "Anna, what happened?"

"I don't really know. I woke up coughing and was in the bathroom getting water when I realized that there was smoke everywhere, but the smoke detectors weren't going off. There wasn't anyone else on the third floor, so I went down to the second. The smoke was worse down there and I could see the flames in the hall, but since the alarms weren't going off, everyone was still asleep. I started yelling for people to wake up but the fire was moving fast. By the time everyone got out, the place was like an inferno. It blew right after we got out the door."

"But you're okay?" Morgan clarified.

"I'm _fine_. You're the ones who need your ears checked, apparently. Hang on a sec."

The sound coming through the phone became muffled but they heard another woman speaking and very clearly heard the word 'papers'. Anna offered her thanks and they heard the other person walk away. When Anna spoke into the phone again, it sounded like she was walking.

"Sorry about that," she began, but Emily cut her off.

"Anna, are you in the hospital?" she demanded. Anna didn't respond, which only allowed the now obvious sounds of the hospital to come through the phone: people being paged, shouting, and sirens. "Answer me!" There was the sound of doors sliding open and shut, then the sounds of cars outside.

"No, I'm not in the hospital," Anna said triumphantly. Morgan smirked; she was still the same as ever.

"Let me rephrase, were you in the hospital when I called you?" Emily asked.

Anna sighed. "If I say yes, are you going to ask me if I'm okay again?"

"No."

"Then yes."

Emily bit her lip and rephrased the question. "What happened?"

"Nothing, Em."

"I'll have Garcia hack the hospital records."

"And you know I'll do it!" Garcia chimed in helpfully.

Another sigh. "I dinged up my shoulder a bit. They wouldn't take care of it at the scene so they took me to the hospital. But I'm good to go. I swear."

"Anna, where are you now?"

"I'm heading to a hotel for a while, until I figure something else out."

"I'm coming up there," Emily said, only looking at Hotch for permission after she'd said it. He nodded once to give his belated consent.

"No, Em, listen. I've got work cut out for me right now, there's plenty to keep me busy. I've got to get everyone placed in the next few days or so, and then I'll go from there."

"Where is everyone else staying?" Emily asked needlessly, for she already knew the answer.

"They're all at the hotel," Anna reported nonchalantly, as if that meant she wasn't forking out the money for all of them. "That's why I'm going there now."

"I still think I should come up there," Emily said, unconvinced.

"Emily, no offense, but you'd probably be in the way. Look, I'm going to be sitting in my hotel room making phone calls for the next few days. No physical exertion. I'll take it easy," Anna promised. "I'll come to you in a week or so, okay? Just let me get everyone taken care of first."

"And who's taking care of you?"

"No one needs to take care of me, Emily."

Rossi and Morgan shared a look; if ever Anna and Emily's relationship had been in question, it wasn't now.

Emily sighed. "Will you at least call me if you need anything?"

"Of course I will," Anna promised. "Same goes for you."

"I'm going to call you tonight," Emily warned.

"By all means," Anna laughed. "I wouldn't have it any other way. Love you Em."

"Love you too."

Emily grabbed her phone off the table and ended the call. "So, where were we?" she asked, obviously hoping everyone would move on as quickly as she was pretending to. It didn't work.

"Let's take a break," Hotch ordered. "We'll finish the briefing on the plane. Wheels up in twenty."

Everyone stayed where they were, eyes on Emily who was nonchalantly flipping through the case file. Rossi met Hotch's eye and made a comment about needing Morgan and Reid's help moving his desk to a different spot in his office. JJ took the hint also and went off in search of her go-bag, leaving Morgan, Hotch, and Emily alone.

Morgan was standing near the door but hesitated, feeling like he should say something to Emily, to the woman who'd almost lost her sister, who happened to be the woman he was in love with. Grateful though he was that his and Anna's relationship roller coaster hadn't affected his relationship with Emily, he was at a loss for words.

He and Anna had gotten together, with Emily's blessing, a while ago, back when an Unsub was terrorizing Anna, all to get back at Emily. He'd been taken aback by her obvious sincerity and generosity, and her dedication to the people she helped. Her sense of humor, love of action movies, and stunning looks hadn't hurt either. But most of all, he loved the way she listened. He knew it was her job to listen, what she did day in and day out, but he'd never seen someone do it quite so well. She was an even better listener than Emily, which was saying something.

They'd made it work for a while. But between the BAU's caseload and Anna's endless meetings with clients, and dealing with the crises that came out of nowhere, dates kept getting cancelled. Dinners were postponed; romantic evenings were turned into quickies on the couch before they each dashed back to their respective offices. They both knew it wasn't fair to keep going like that, so they'd ended it, promising to stay friends and, unlike so many others, actually meaning it. Morgan still found himself dialing her number in the middle of the night after a rough case was keeping him up. Anna called on Morgan for favors, usually in persuading batterers to leave their soon to be ex-wives alone. It was still give and take, just like it had always been. It just wasn't official.

Even so, Morgan hadn't been able to bring himself to date anyone else. All joking aside, his "conquests" weren't numerous these days. And strangely, he was fine with that. And truthfully, he'd had the nerve to think that he was over her. He attributed his dry spell to late-blossoming maturity, to the fact that he was finally realizing he couldn't act sixteen forever. But this morning, seeing the destruction on the television, hearing that damn reporter pronounce Anna dead, it all hit him. It wasn't like he'd gotten the news that a friend had passed, not even a good friend. The emotions that came at him were so intense that it felt as though a part of him had physically been ripped away. It was how he'd felt when his dad had been killed, so vulnerable that he didn't know what to do with himself. When his dad died, Morgan had found it ironic that the one person he wanted to talk to about it most was his dad. Somehow, he thought that his dad would have all the right words to say to make the pain go away, because he always did. Right in this moment, Morgan vowed that when Anna came to town, or before if he couldn't control himself any longer, he was going to tell her how he felt, consequences be damned.

"Morgan. Morgan!" he jerked his head up when he heard Hotch saying his name.

"Yeah?" he ran his hand over his nearly bald head.

"Are you alright?" Hotch was looking at him with concern on his face, but it was also tinged with mild annoyance; he obviously wanted, or needed, to talk to Emily alone.

"Yeah. Sorry," he turned to Emily. "Tell Anna that if there's anything I can do…just tell her that I've got some experience rebuilding houses," he finished awkwardly. Derek Morgan was never awkward.

"She knows, Morgan," Emily assured him with a small smile. "Don't doubt that."

Morgan nodded at the pair of them and left the room, presumably to get ready for the flight.

"He still has feelings for her," Hotch stated.

"You think?" Emily asked sarcastically.

Hotch gave her the small smile that seemed to be reserved for her alone lately. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm fine. Anna's the one I'm worried about. Second Chance has been her dream since she was sixteen and found out she could never compete again. It was her baby."

"Emily, the building's the only thing that's been lost. Her dream isn't gone." Hotch reminded her.

"Yeah," Emily sighed. But if Doyle had his way, Anna wouldn't be around long enough to rebuild it.

"You've been stressed lately," Hotch observed.

"This is a stressful job, Hotch."

"More so than usual," he prompted.

Emily shook her head. "Just been tired recently."

"You're not sleeping?" It was almost a statement. But he'd manage to add the inflection at the end just in time.

Emily jumped on it. The one thing she could say that would make her seem like nothing out of the ordinary was going on. The perfect excuse. And the best part was that it was technically true. "Nightmares," she admitted. _About Ian. About Declan. About Lauren Reynolds._ That part, she didn't say.

The truthfulness of her statement worked. "That's nothing to be ashamed about," Hotch told her gently. He meant it, too. All the members of the team struggled at different points in time. Emily knew that was true because she was usually the one they called at three in the morning. Even Hotch.

"I'm not ashamed, Hotch," she said defensively, but then softened her tone. "Sorry. I just hate having them." That much was true.

Hotch placed a reassuring hand on her back and the gesture calmed her, just as it had from the first time he'd done it, months ago when they were at Anna's. She'd come to associate that hand with safety and with calmness and control. Loathe though she was to depend on anyone else for comfort or support, she knew she could depend on Hotch whenever she needed it.

"Come on," he said. "Wheels up in ten."


	3. Chapter 3

The case in Georgia went off without a hitch. As was their usual mode of operation, they'd created their preliminary profile, which was met with skepticism from the locals but who had nonetheless aided in the capture of one seriously deranged Unsub.

The flight home was quiet; Rossi and Reid were dozing even though it was only midmorning, Morgan had his headphones on, and Hotch and JJ were murmuring over new case files. Emily sat alone at one end of the plane and checked her phone. Her eyes were burning with exhaustion; she'd barely slept the past few days. At least this time she could pass it off as fatigue from the case. In reality, she'd been getting some unsettling news that was keeping her awake.

In keeping up with the world outside the BAU, she'd learned that two members of the team that had taken down Doyle were dead already. Sean, who'd first informed her of his escape from North Korea, had been found at his safe house in Italy. And Jeremy had been found in France. Emily had gotten a desperate phone call from his wife Tsia, another former team member last night.

"Emily, I don't know what to do," she'd sobbed. "I'm terrified."

"You need to get to the States as quickly as possible," Emily had advised her. "You know where to go when you get here. Get new papers, he's still there. Then lay low, I'll find you."

She felt herself shifting back to CIA mode, trust no one, take no one's word, and always assume anyone you meet is working for the enemy. Doyle was getting closer. He was saving her for last, she knew, which meant that once Tsia was dead, Emily would be next, as would the rest of her team, if Doyle carried out his threats.

She'd been calling and texting Anna incessantly for the past three days while they'd been in Georgia. Emily had repeatedly been assured that yes, everything was fine. Yes, her shoulder was healing nicely. Yes, she'd finally managed to place everyone who'd been staying at Second Chance when the explosion happened.

"Emily, you're going to give yourself an ulcer," Anna joked with her last night. "Seriously though, you sound exhausted. What's going on?"

"I need to see you. We need to talk," Emily had answered vaguely. This wasn't something that could be done over the phone.

"Is this about the fire? Did they tell you?" Anna sounded annoyed.

"What? Did who tell me what?" Emily demanded.

Anna let out a slow breath. "They're ruling the fire and the explosion as arson. Apparently they figured out that the smoke detectors had been disabled somehow. They found traces of gasoline on the burned bits of carpet and flooring that were left and they found plastic explosives in the basement and on the third floor," Anna explained. "Emily, who would do that?" For the first time, she sounded legitimately upset. A freak fire she could handle, but the idea that someone broke in, doused the place in gasoline and wired it to explode was too much to handle. And Emily was breaking up over the fact that her sister, always so strong and so composed was being targeted, no doubt by Ian Doyle.

"Anna, there are some things going on that we need to talk about. But we can't do it over the phone. I'm going to drive up there tomorrow."

"No, let me come to you, please? I need to get out of this hotel. I got my last family placed today, so I'm good to go."

Emily hesitated, but quickly decided that she did want Anna here, on her own turf where she could protect her better. "Yeah, come here. You have your key?"

"Lost in the fire. Are you going to be at your office tomorrow morning? I'll just come straight there."

"That works." Even better, for security purposes.

Anna yawned. "Okay, I'll see you tomorrow Feathers. Love you."

"Love you too Anna Banana," she smiled for the first time in what felt like days. Childhood nicknames took on a life of their own sometimes. Satisfied that she would see Anna tomorrow, and that Anna would be safe, Emily leaned her head back against the seat and closed her eyes, dozing off into a fitful sleep.

* * *

Emily groaned when her alarm went off the next morning. She rolled over and hit the snooze button before groaning again. She barely remembered coming home last night; she'd fallen into a light sleep on the place and had been roused when Hotch gently shook her arm. She drove home as if she was on autopilot, dropped her clothes on her way from the front door to her bedroom, and gotten into bed without another thought.

She rolled back over and threw her arms above her head on the pillow and the thought crossed her mind that this was the first night in weeks that she'd gotten a full night's sleep without being roused by nightmares. Anna would get here today and Emily would be able to protect her from Doyle. She'd protect them all, even if it meant taking Doyle down herself.

Her alarm went off again and she forced herself to get up and out of bed. She padded into the bathroom and turned the shower on as hot as it would go. As the bathroom filled with steam she walked through the apartment picking up her discarded clothes. She stopped short when she got to the entryway of the apartment and tried to calm the incessant pounding of her heart that she swore she could actually hear.

A lilac, a single pristine purple flower was resting on the table just below a painting she'd purchased in Rome. Just the flower, nothing more. Had it been there last night? It must have been. She would have heard someone come into her apartment; the alarm would have gone off. Had she remembered to lock the door last night? Had she even set the alarm? She closed her eyes and tried to do a cognitive interview with herself. She imagined Morgan's voice in her head telling her to go back to last night when she'd walked into her home. What did it smell like? It smelled a little on the musty side, as it always did when she got back from a case. Normally she burned a sweet smelling candle every morning to wake herself up and when she wasn't home, the smell went away. But last night there was another smell, a floral smell. Like lilacs. And just a trace of cologne. Ian's cologne. So. The flower had been there before she got back. Ian had been in her apartment while she was gone. He knew where she lived.

Emily took a deep breath to steady herself. Anna would get here, and they'd pack up and run, it was that simple. She walked back to the bathroom in a trance of sorts, already planning their escape route. She had her own fake passport, obviously, a token from her days at the CIA. Anna's passport was real, but it had probably been lost in the fire. Lucky for Emily, she knew the best forger in the business.

She jumped when her cell phone rang. She glanced at the caller ID half expecting Ian's name to pop up, but it was JJ.

"Hey Jayje."

"We've got a new case. Hotch wants you to meet Morgan at a scene. There's two dead."

"Serial?"

"Don't know. All I know is that Strauss told Hotch we were on this one."

"Where's the scene?"

JJ rattled off an address that Emily scribbled down. Her heart sank. "That's not far from you, right?"

"Ten minutes," Emily choked out. "How many are dead?"

"Two. That's all I know. Morgan's already on his way to your place. He'll be there in ten minutes."

"Got it."

"Em, you okay?" JJ asked, hearing the change in her tone.

"Fine. Just tired. See you later Jayje." Emily tossed her phone onto her bed and headed for the bathroom to take the world's fastest shower. She dried her hair and got dressed in record time and was in the lobby of her building when Morgan pulled up.

"You look exhausted," Morgan observed as she buckled her seatbelt.

"We can't all look as pretty as you do every day," Emily replied, waiting for Morgan to screech away from the curb like he always did. But instead he put the car in park.

"What's goin' on with you?" he asked, obviously concerned.

"Derek, I'm telling you this as a friend. Don't ask," Emily turned her face toward the window so he couldn't see it.

"You know you can come to me with anything, right?" he wasn't giving up that easily. "We're partners. You can trust me."

Emily closed her eyes. "I know I can." _But could you still trust me after you find out what I've done?_

Sensing that he wasn't going to get any more than that, Morgan finally steered the car away from the building. "JJ said there were two dead, one male and one female. Other than that, she didn't know much," he reported.

Emily nodded but didn't say anything. When they pulled up to the building ten minutes later, she had to struggle to hold herself together because she knew this place. She knew who lived here. And she knew who the victims were going to be.

Sure enough, she followed Morgan up to the third floor of the building where the crime scene technicians were busy gathering evidence. A lone figure lay in the hallway, covered by a white sheet that was stained with blood. Another body was positioned just inside the doorway, larger than the first, but no less dead.

Emily lifted the sheet that covered Tsia's body and she felt her breath hitch in her throat. Tsia looked almost peaceful, except for the blood that stained her face. She carefully replaced the sheet and stepped inside where Morgan was examining the other body.

"These were quick and efficient," he observed. "Single shots to the head, no post-mortem mutilation, no signs of torture."

_Just Ian's style_, Emily thought to herself. That's when it hit her. There wasn't anyone left. With Tsia and her forger gone, there was no one else between Ian and her. And now there was no one that could get her what she needed to get Anna out of town. She made herself act normally as she mirrored Morgan's actions in the apartment; looking in each of the rooms, profiling the victims, trying to surmise the relationship between the two. Morgan's working theory was that the man had been the target and that the woman had interrupted the killers on their way out. He asked Emily to call Garcia and she if the female victim had a connection with any other resident in the building.

"Emily. Emily!" Morgan grabbed her arm. "Where are you right now?"

"Sorry, I just," she suddenly felt sick. "I need some air." She turned and walked briskly out of the apartment, her stride turning to a jog as she reached the hallway. She flew down the stairs and barely made it outside before she lost what little had been in her stomach to begin with.

She heard Morgan behind her and felt his hand on her back. "Prentiss, what's wrong with you?"

"I just…felt sick," she muttered. "Are you done here? I need to run back to my apartment and change." Though the clothes she was wearing were spotless (college had given her great aim when puking), she felt clammy and gross. She hoped a fresh change of clothes, a new shirt at least, would help her get her head back on straight.

She felt her phone vibrate in her pocket, indicating she had a text message. She stared at the small screen in disbelief.

_You're not looking well, luv. Perhaps you should sleep more._

Emily whipped her head around; Ian was here? Now? Watching her? Her hand went to her holster defensively as she scanned the crowds behind the police tape. She didn't see him.

"Prentiss." Morgan. Damn, she'd forgotten he was there. He was looking at her with something more than concern now, was it annoyance? Pity? Did he think she was breaking down? Probably.

"Sorry," Emily said again.

"What was that about?" he demanded.

"Nothing, it was nothing. Are you done here?"

Morgan nodded slowly. "Hotch wants us to meet him at the office."

"Pit stop first, okay?" Emily requested again. She strolled nonchalantly toward the SUV and climbed in without another word. Morgan followed wordlessly and they spent the drive back to her apartment in silence.

"Give me five minutes," Emily requested when they pulled back up to the curb, only an hour after they'd left in the first place.

"Want me to come with you?"

"I'm good," Emily assured him, opening the car door and slamming it behind her. She eschewed the elevator and took the stairs instead, hoping she could get rid of the jitters she was feeling. The stairs let out at the opposite end of the hall from her apartment and she barely noticed the silence around her as she walked.

She put her key in the lock and turned it, feeling some kind of relief when she realized that no one had broken in during the time she'd been gone. She pushed the door open and noted that the hall light was on. Had she left it on this morning? That's when she saw the small suitcase sitting next to the wall. It looked new.

"Anna?" she called, walking slowly down the hall. "Anna, are you here?" When she got no response, she drew her gun and held it with both hands in front of her. Anna said she was going to go to the BAU, not Emily's apartment. And she didn't have a key.

She turned to the left at the end of the hallway and cleared the kitchen; nothing looked out of place there. The dining room, bathroom, and the living room were clear too. She walked up the stairs with her gun aimed at the top; she didn't make a sound. The guest bedroom was the one closest to the stairs and it too was empty, as it usually was, save for when Anna came to visit. She kept some clothes and a bag of toiletries in the closet for unexpected visits, so if it was her suitcase in the foyer, why would she have brought it with her? Emily backed out of the room, passing the upstairs bathroom and heading toward her own room. The door was closed, which certainly wasn't how she'd left it this morning. She paused at the door and took a few deep breaths. Nudging the door with her foot, she peered through the crack between the door and the door frame but didn't see anything amiss. She swallowed hard and kicked the door open, nearly sending it flying off its hinges, and she had the fleeting thought that Morgan might have been proud.

But the scene she saw in front of her shoved that humorous thought out of her head so fast she didn't even have time to process the switch. Because all she could see was Anna, who was positively covered in blood.


	4. Chapter 4

**I hope you guys have been enjoying the story so far; please review and let me know either way! Also, I'm leaving town in a few days and I don't know what my internet access will look like. I'll try to get a new chapter posted before I leave, but after that it may be a few weeks. Thanks for reading!**

* * *

Running calmed Anna down. It always had and she figured it always would, which is why that morning, after she'd woken up at four and been unable to get back to sleep, she'd decided to lace up her new running shoes and clear her head. It was only an hour long drive to the BAU, so she didn't have to worry about being late, and the hotel she was staying at was close to her normal running route. She stretched for a few minutes in her room, slipped her room key into the waistband of her shorts, and took off.

It wasn't an easy run this morning. Her bandaged shoulder pulled with each step she took and the burned skin stung uncomfortably. She knew Emily was going to freak when she saw it; Anna had understated the severity of the injury. She shook the thought out of her head and made herself keep running. Her legs were warming up to the familiar burn of exertion and her heart was racing. At 4:45, she'd reached her limit; as much as she didn't want to admit it, her shoulder couldn't take any more. She slowed to a walk and turned around, ready to head back to the hotel. She stretched her quadriceps and started the trek back to her hotel. She'd check out, head to the BAU, and figure out what had Emily so freaked.

But then she got it. She saw the black SUV parked ahead of her and she saw the two men standing next to it. Suddenly she realized what had Emily so scared, because she recognized one of the men. Tall, pale, and handsome, with a day's growth of stubble on his face, he was still as physically imposing as he'd been years ago. They'd never met, Anna didn't even know that he knew she existed; Emily had been overly careful on that front. But Anna knew all about Ian Doyle and what he'd done to her sister. What he'd forced her to do to Declan in order to get him away from his father. Anna's heart was pounding now and it wasn't just from the physical exertion. She knew who'd burned down her home and she knew why he was here now. She forced herself to keep a steady pace as she got closer and closer to the SUV. She drew level with it and passed it without incident. Her sigh of relief was cut short when she heard a man's voice call out behind her. She wished she'd had time to get a new iPod so she could have pretended that she didn't hear him. No such luck. It was even worse luck that this early in the morning there wasn't anyone else around, not that that would have stopped Doyle.

She slowed to a stop and turned around to face him, forcing herself to smile.

"Can I help you?" she asked.

Doyle was holding a map. "I'm afraid I'm entirely lost," he told her innocently, using a passable American accent. "I'm trying to get to the Dumbarton Hotel." That's where Anna was staying and she willed herself not to give anything away.

"Sure. If you go down this road about five more miles and hang a right, it'll be just a few blocks down the road."

Doyle nodded slowly. "Thanks," he told her quietly. "Listen, can we give you a ride somewhere?"

"That's kind of you, but I'm good. I don't have much farther to go." Anna flashed one more grin and started to run again. She was just thinking that she might make it back to the hotel when she felt someone grab her. She stumbled and was lifted back up instantly. Doyle shoved her into the backseat of the SUV. The other man with him climbed into the front passenger seat and Anna realized that someone was already in the driver's seat. The SUV peeled away from the curb and took off down the road back toward the hotel. The driver parked in a spot right near the door and Doyle turned to face her.

"Here's what's going to happen," he told her, dropping his faux American accent. "You and I are going to go inside and grab your things from your room. You'll check out and then we're going to go for a drive, okay?"

"What happens if I don't?" she fired back, dropping her charade as well. She wasn't scared of Ian Doyle, she was pissed.

"Then I will kill everyone that stands in our way of getting out of here," he indicated the nearly full lobby. "Do you want that on your conscience?" He was quiet for a moment and Anna glared at him. "I thought not. Let's go." He got out of the SUV and walked around to her side, opening the door and grabbing her hand to pull her out. He wrapped an arm around her bare waist and she became very conscious of the fact that her running clothes didn't offer much in the way of modesty: there was about six inches of bare skin between where her purple sports bra ended and her tiny black running shorts began. He guided her through the lobby and up the stairs to her room on the third floor. He slid the key from her waistband and inserted it into the lock, shoving the door opened when the light turned green. Her stuff was already packed in a new suitcase; she'd gone shopping for the essentials the day before. Doyle grabbed it. "Anything else?" Anna shook her head and Doyle spun her around and pushed her out of the room.

They walked back downstairs where Anna paid her bill and checked out. After the overly perky concierge told her to have a nice day, Doyle whisked her back out of the hotel and into the SUV. They were in and out in less than ten minutes.

"Let's go," he told the driver.

"Where are we going?" Anna asked.

He ignored her question, grabbing the back of her neck and forcing her body forward. He pulled a set of handcuffs out of a bag at his feet and pulled her arms behind her back. He slammed her back against the seat after they were fastened and reached across her body to pull the seatbelt around and click it into place.

"You're concern for my safety is touching," Anna told him, trying to shift her arms so that her shoulder was more comfortable.

Doyle regarded her as if he was trying to work something out in his head. "You know who I am?" It came out as more of a declaration than a question and Anna figured that lying would do her no good at this point.

"I do."

"Then you know that you're no good to me dead. Not yet anyway."

"Then why did you try to kill me once already?"

"To get a message across. It really was just a fluke that you didn't die. All the better now, really. Let me ask you this, did you burn your shoulder playing the hero?"

"No, I burned it trying to escape from the cozy little bonfire you made out of my house," Anna told him icily.

Doyle laughed. "Oh, I like you. You're just as feisty as she is. Now shut up and enjoy the ride."

They'd driven in silence for an hour, taking the familiar route that Anna always took to get to Emily's. They pulled onto her street but parked a few blocks down from her building. Doyle instructed one of his men, he called him Liam, to go stake it out and to radio back when Emily left. Liam obliged, and the driver stepped outside for a smoke, leaving Anna and Doyle alone.

"You and Emily have matching tattoos," Doyle said suddenly, referring to her sister by name for the first time and gesturing toward her bare side, where two words were written sideways in elegant script that extended from her ribs to just above her hip.

Anna had been leaning her head against the window but raised it when he spoke. She turned toward him, obscuring said tattoo from his sight.

"And?"

"They're unusual."

"Two of a kind, I'm sure."

"There's a story?" he prompted with a smile, as though they were old friends catching up.

"I went to Spain to visit Emily on her seventeenth birthday. She'd just had a fight with our mother so she and I went off on our own. We passed a tattoo parlor and decided to go for it."

"How old were you?"

"Thirteen."

Doyle laughed. "I can picture it." He traced the words with his finger. "What do they mean?"

Anna had had enough. "What is it you want, exactly?" she asked angrily. Doyle's face matched her change in demeanor perfectly. The smile vanished, leaving his usual menacing look in its place.

"What do I want? I _want_ my son. But seeing as how I can't have him, I'll _settle_ for making Emily pay for what she did."

"And how do I play into that?" she asked, even though she knew the answer.

"You're the only thing Emily cares about, besides her own life. You and her colleagues. I want her to feel the same sense of loss I did. I want her to know that she failed to protect those she loves. And then I _will_ kill her, and I'll make it slow. She will be begging me to end her miserable life."

"And after that? After your revenge fantasies are played out and you find that it hasn't helped to act on them?"

"You don't know what you're talking about," Doyle scoffed at first, but his face changed. "What has Emily told you about me?"

"Nothing."

"She never mentioned me?" What was he reaching for? Did he honestly think Emily had been in love with him?

_Did she mention you?_ Anna wanted to say. _After that assignment she had nightmares for weeks; she was staying with me and I could hear her screaming for Declan from down the hall. I know that what she did with you made her sick and that she couldn't stand the sight of herself for months._

"Never."

Doyle seemed satisfied, if somewhat disappointed, with her answer; he turned and got out of the car anyway. He and the driver stood at the front of the SUV and watched Emily's building for the better part of an hour; what they were waiting for exactly Anna didn't know.

She got her answer when she heard saw Doyle lift his walkie talkie to his ear. He nodded at the driver and they both got back in the car. Anna strained to see the front of Emily's building. She saw a car pull up and watched Emily get in. The car headed straight for them and Anna half expected Doyle to push her down until she realized that no one had a hope of seeing her through the heavily tinted windows. She followed the car's progress down the street and noted that Morgan was behind the wheel. Her heart fluttered involuntarily and she found herself hoping that she would be able to see him at least one more time before she died, that he would hold her in his arms and remind her that she was safe with him.

After they passed, Doyle instructed his driver to pull around the back of Emily's building into a parking lot. He undid her seatbelt and leaned her forward to unlock the handcuffs. She rubbed her wrists and Doyle whispered a warning in her ear.

"Whatever you're thinking of trying, I wouldn't. Let's go." He pulled her out of the car and steered her so she was walking between him and Liam, who was in the lead. The driver, as usual, stayed with the car.

The used the back entrance and took the service elevator to Emily's floor. Liam picked the lock to Emily's apartment with ease and Doyle shoved Anna inside, closing and locking the door behind them.

"Upstairs," he instructed.

Anna followed obediently but her heart was beating faster and faster in anticipation and fear. Doyle pulled her to the right when they reached the top and walked toward Emily's bedroom. Clearly he'd been here before; he walked right in and patted the bed, beckoning for Anna to follow him. She stopped in the doorway.

"In your dreams," she scoffed. No way was she going to let _that_ happen without a fight.

Doyle was at her side in a flash. "No luv," he hissed in her ear. "In _yours_." He raised his gun and knocked it against her forehead. She fell to the floor and was very aware of the blood that was pumping out of the newly opened gash. She tried to push herself up but found that she was having trouble making her arms work properly. She managed to open her eyes and saw that Doyle was rummaging in Emily's linen closet. She actually saw _two_ Doyles but she knew that couldn't be right. He shook out a pillowcase and rolled it up; Anna felt him force it into her mouth and knot it tightly behind her head. He lifted her effortlessly, evidently undeterred by the blood still pouring out of her head. He positioned her on the bed so that her back was against the headboard. Her head lolled but she felt him grab her right arm and stretch it to the side. He used a plastic tie to fasten it into place and grabbed her left arm, pulling it straight and making her wince as the burned skin on her shoulder protested. He secured her left wrist in place also and stepped back to take in the scene.

Blood covered the right side of her face, which was the side that Emily would see first when she came through the door. There was a small bloodstain on the ground and another one on the bed where blood dripped off Anna's chin. Very theatrical. But not enough. He stepped closer and hit her with the gun again, sending drops of blood spraying across the wall and all over Anna herself, who now appeared to be unconscious. That was more like it.

He pressed two fingers to Anna's throat, feeling for her pulse. It was there and it was strong, exactly how he wanted it. This is what he wanted Emily to walk in and see.

"Until later," he told Anna, even though he knew she couldn't hear him. Liam followed him out of Emily's apartment and back down the stairs where car and driver were waiting.

"Go," Doyle ordered once he was inside, and away they sped.


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey all! I'm leaving town tomorrow, so the next update might be a bit. Thanks for reading and let me know what you think!**

* * *

Anna came to about twenty minutes after Doyle left. She blinked a few times, trying to get her eyes to focus. The right side of her face was sticky from all the blood and it made her face feel stiff. She leaned her head back against the wall in an effort to stop the throbbing sensation she was feeling. She pulled weakly at the restraints that were holding her to the bed but they weren't budging. Her shoulder was burning in pain from being stretched into such an awkward position.

She must have passed out again because when she woke up the blood on her face was much drier than it had been before. She thought she heard someone calling her name but figured she must have imagined it. The next thing she knew, Emily was standing in the doorway with her gun at the ready. She paused, taking in the scene in front of her. When she got over the initial shock of seeing all the blood, she rushed forward and pulled the gag out of Anna's mouth.

"Is he still here?" Emily whispered.

"I don't know," Anna whispered back slowly, pleased that she could string those three words together.

Emily raised her gun again and walked into the master bathroom, whipping around the corner and pulling the shower curtain back. Satisfied that there was no one there, she holstered her weapon, grabbed a towel, and hurried back to Anna's side. "No one here." She pressed the towel firmly to Anna's forehead.

"Emily?" a man's voice called from downstairs. "Prentiss, where are you?" It was Morgan.

Emily had two options: tell Morgan everything now or leave Anna here, go downstairs and pretend everything was fine, go into work, stay for a few hours and try to make it home before Anna bled out. Yeah, right. But what if…

"Morgan I'm upstairs. I need you up here!" she called back. "Bring a knife." She leaned in close to Anna and whispered, "Let me talk."

She heard Morgan open and close a drawer in the kitchen, then his heavy footfalls on the stairs. "What do you need the knife for Princess? Did you get yourself tangled up in – what the hell?" Morgan stopped dead in the doorway. "Anna? What the hell happened?" He rushed forward, evidently understanding the need for the knife. He cut both wrists free and pulled his phone out of his pocket as Anna leaned into Emily and closed her eyes. Emily kept one hand pressed to the towel on her forehead and wrapped the other one around Anna's waist. Morgan pressed number 2 on his speed dial, knowing that Garcia could get a paramedic here faster than any 911 dispatcher. And it would save him a phone call to Hotch.

"My darling, I thought you'd forgotten about me!" Garcia wailed theatrically.

"Baby Girl, I need you to get an ambulance over to Emily's apartment. And call Hotch and the rest of the team and have them meet us here."

"Derek, what – are you okay? Is Emily okay?"

"Penelope, we're fine. Just call Hotch and the team and get an ambulance here. Fast," Morgan ordered.

"You will hear sirens forthwith, my love. PG out." Morgan pocketed his phone and his gaze flickered between Emily's panicked eyes and Anna's closed ones.

"What happened? Who did this?" He moved Emily's hand away from the temporary pressure bandage and took over, pressing harder than she had been. Emily wrapped her other arm around Anna, who opened her eyes at the question.

"I don't know," Emily lied, tightening her hold on her sister.

"Me neither," Anna said softly.

"Hotch is on his way. Garcia called an ambulance," Morgan reported.

"Let's take her downstairs," Emily suggested. "They're not going to get a stretcher up here."

"I don't need a stretcher," Anna protested weakly.

"You don't get a say." Morgan lifted the towel away from her head to check the bleeding. "I don't think it's as bad as it looks."

"That's reassuring," Anna deadpanned.

Morgan chuckled. "Come on. Let's get you downstairs."

Anna sat up and away from Emily as if she was going to get up and walk down the stairs herself.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold up there. What do you think you're doing?"

"I'm being a good girl and going downstairs."

"I don't think so," Morgan said. He nodded to Emily, who shifted Anna's weight from her to him. Morgan put his free hand behind her knees. "Make yourself useful," he told her. Anna obliged, taking the bloody towel from him and holding it to her head. She let Morgan scoop her into his capable arms and had to fight to stay in the present. It was so tempting to believe that they were on another of their midway meet-ups, ensconced in a hotel somewhere. Morgan had always been able to sweep her off her feet. Literally.

"You good?" she realized he wasn't talking to her but to Emily, who was still sitting unmoving on the bed.

Emily stared back at him blankly. The knowledge that Ian Doyle had been here, in her home _again_, and in her bedroom chilled her more than it should have. The fact that he'd gotten to her sister _again_ made her question whether or not she was making the right decision in keeping this from the team. But she couldn't worry about that now. As long as Anna played along with the "No, Hotch, sorry. I don't know who kidnapped me," routine, Emily would have some time to figure this out.

* * *

Hotch had commandeered the SUV since Morgan wasn't there to drive and the team made the normally twenty minute commute to Emily's apartment in ten. They raced up the stairs past the uniformed officers that always responded when an ambulance was called and badged their way in to Emily's apartment. Garcia hadn't given him any details, so Hotch didn't know what to expect but it certainly wasn't _this_.

Morgan had carried Anna downstairs and deposited her in one of Emily's dining room chairs where a medic was now kneeling next to her. One whole side of her face was covered in blood, as was her shoulder, arm, chest, and the sports bra she was wearing. The paramedic was dabbing at one of two wounds on her head, sponging away the blood so he could assess the damage. She seemed to be alert though; she was answering the paramedic's questions with no apparent difficulty. Anna's other shoulder and upper arm were swathed in a bandage; Hotch supposed this was the injury she'd sustained in the fire. Emily and Morgan were standing next to her, arms folded and looking mad as hell. When he saw the team come in, Morgan put a hand on Emily's arm and indicated she should stay put.

"What happened?" Reid asked softly as he approached.

Morgan shook his head. "I have no idea. Everything was fine when I picked Emily up this morning. We went over to the crime scene but she got sick and wanted to come back here and change before we went in to the office. I stayed in the car but she was taking so damn long that I came up here. I found them in Emily's bedroom; Anna was bound to the headboard of Emily's bed, covered in blood. That's literally all I know."

"What did Emily say happened?" Rossi asked.

"She has no idea. She came up here and found Anna like that."

"What did Anna say?" JJ wanted to know.

"That she doesn't know who took her. I haven't gotten a chance to ask her anything else. The medics got here right before you did." That shifted everyone's focus back to Anna, Emily, and the medic, who was now shining a light in Anna's eyes. He asked her a few more questions which she was apparently able to answer. As the team walked closer, they heard the medic suggest that he take her to the hospital for observation.

"No, just bandage me up and I'll be good to go," she ignored his protests and grinned at the new arrivals. "Hey guys. Long time no see."

"You don't look that much better than you did the last time we saw you," Rossi quipped. Considering she'd just been rescued from the hands of a sadistic Unsub the last time she'd seen them, he wasn't that far off. Save for Morgan, and occasionally Hotch, she hadn't seen much of Emily's team.

"What can I say?" she asked as the medic taped a bandage over one of the gashes on her forehead. "I swear one of these days we'll do something normal like go out to dinner or, you know, not end up conversing amidst a whole bunch of first responders. No offense," she added to the medic who was just finishing taking care of the second cut on her head.

"None taken. Your shoulder could use re-wrapping," he observed. "And I'll get you some pain meds in a minute."

"Yes to the bandage, no to the meds," Anna permitted, knowing that Emily would have to see the full extent of the injury sometime. She heard a sharp intake of breath as the medic unwound the gauze covering her shoulder and upper arm. The flesh beneath it was raw and blistered, varying between a light pink color and a bright red. Anna closed her eyes and exhaled softly as the air hit it; burns hurt like a bitch no matter what you did to them but the rush of cool air seemed to sting more than before.

"You 'dinged up' your shoulder?" Emily verified. "I really want to smack you right now."

Anna chuckled. "I appreciate your self-control."

"What did you do to it?" Emily pried.

"Excuse me; _I_ didn't do anything to it. But it may have repeatedly run itself into a locked door that happened to be on fire."

"And you thought the best option was to break the door down with your shoulder?" Emily asked bluntly.

"Well, not all of us have our own human battering ram," Anna inclined her head toward Morgan. "And I had to get it open somehow."

The medic smeared some antibiotic cream on the burn and started to re-wrap it. "The hospital should have given you a sling for this," he admonished. "The skin needs to heal; you need your arm to be as immobile as possible."

"They gave me one," Anna appeased, catching Emily's glare. "What? Have you ever tried to go running while wearing a sling?" The answer was yes actually, but Emily let it slide. "It's in the suitcase." The medic fastened the bandage into place and stepped back.

"Wear it. You won't be running for a while with that head injury anyway. If you start feeling nauseous or dizzy, get to a hospital. And don't get the bandages wet," he instructed.

"Got it. Thanks," Anna shook his hand and he departed. "Story of my life. Good thing I've gotten to be an expert at washing my hair one handed."

"Anna, I need to ask you some questions," Hotch told her.

Anna nodded. "Oh, bad idea." She put the palm of her hand against the un-bandaged side of her head.

"Hotch, not here," Emily said. "I want to get her somewhere safe."

Rossi agreed. "The last thing we need is for whoever did this to show back up here for a second shot."

"Or maybe that's exactly what we need," Morgan countered, arms still folded.

"Emily's right. We'll go back to the BAU and take care of things there," Hotch decided.

Anna spoke up. "Well, I think I'm a bit overdressed to be going to the BAU," she joked. "Can I have ten minutes to shower and change?" she assessed the amount of blood still on her skin. "Maybe fifteen?"

Hotch nodded. "Of course."

"I'll help you," Emily offered.

"I'm good," Anna stood up, surprisingly steady. "If you hear a thud, _then_ you can come to my rescue." She grabbed the handle of the small suitcase that was still sitting by the door and headed upstairs.

The blood on her skin actually came off pretty easily, more easily than she'd thought it would, anyway. She couldn't actually get in the shower because of her shoulder, but she arched back so her hair was under the stream of water. Using her good hand she scrubbed it, taking care to avoid getting water on her forehead. When she was satisfied, she wrapped herself in a towel and padded down the hall to Emily's guest room. She slipped into her underwear and a pair of dark wash jeans and tugged a bra out of her suitcase.

"Crap," she whispered to herself. The past few days had been spent alone in her hotel room, so she hadn't had to tackle the process of actually getting her bra on and hooking it behind her. She slipped her arms through the straps and reached her good hand behind her to see if she could get the clasp hooked. No luck.

She jumped when she felt a warm hand grab hers and she whirled around, coming face to face with Morgan. Well, face to chest anyway. A very well-built chest, at that.

"Damn it, Derek," she breathed. "I'm not dressed."

"Nothing I haven't seen before," he joked. "Want some help?"

"No."

"Need some help?" he asked softly.

Anna sighed. "Yes." She turned back around and felt Derek's fingers nimbly close the clasp on her bra. He grabbed the shirt off her bed that she'd laid out because it buttoned up the front instead of going over her head. He helped her shrug into it and quickly closed the buttons, his hand surprisingly gentle.

"I missed you," he said finally, tucking a stray piece of wet hair behind her ear.

"I missed you too," she admitted. She felt his arms close gently around her, pulling her toward him. She pressed her head against his well-muscled chest, relishing the sound of his heartbeat, always so strong. He pressed his lips to the top of her head and held her, not wanting to let go. They stood together for a few minutes.

"We should go downstairs," Anna finally said, hating the thought of moving from her current location.

Morgan didn't let go. "I know."

She tilted her head up to look at him. "Did I mention how much I missed you?"

Morgan laughed. "You might have."

"Do you know what else I missed?" she asked softly.

"I think I can guess." Morgan leaned down and pressed his lips to hers and Anna felt herself melt all over again. It was so cliché, and she didn't consider herself to be a clichéd kind of girl, but it was the way Morgan made her feel. And right then, it seemed like nothing else existed. There was no Doyle, no danger, and no throbbing pain in her forehead.

She made herself pull away, but didn't let go of his hand. "Come on." She started for the door but Morgan grabbed her good arm.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" He rummaged in the top of the suitcase for the sling she'd stuffed in there. He dangled it in front of her. "Doctor's orders."

"He wasn't even a doctor," Anna argued, but Morgan was already sliding the strap over her head and guiding her arm into place. Anna didn't want to admit it, but her shoulder did feel better now that her arm was supported.

"Thanks," she said begrudgingly. Morgan flashed a killer smile and grabbed her hand to lead her out of the room.

"You okay?" Emily asked when Anna and Morgan re-joined them in the kitchen. She could practically feel the sexual tension oozing off her sister and Morgan. Hell, _Reid_ could probably feel the sexual tension and Emily wasn't even sure he knew that sexual tension was. But one look at him confirmed it, a fierce blush had crept up his cheeks and he was staring determinedly at the floor and Emily wasn't the only one that had noticed.

"You alright, Spence?" JJ couldn't help asking.

"Fine!" he jerked his head up. "I'm fine! Why do you ask?"

Emily and JJ shared a grin. "No reason," JJ told him.

As one, they filed out the door and down the stairs. Morgan, Anna, and Emily rode in Morgan's car while the rest departed in the SUV they'd arrived in.

Neither party noted the well-dressed man sitting in his car near the entrance to the building. Doyle's driver watched the FBI party of six plus one civilian climb into their cars and drive away.

"They just left," he radioed back to Doyle, his British accent clipped and professional.

"Good. Follow them," Doyle ordered.

The driver obliged, pulling away from the curb. "My dear Ms. Prentiss, what have you gotten yourself into?"


	6. Chapter 6

**Hi all! Sorry for the delay in updates, vacation didn't allow much internet access. The good news is that I did have time to write, so the next few updates should be speedy! Please let me know what you think : )**

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The drive to the BAU had been smooth and uneventful. And silent. Anna had spent most of the car ride staring out the window, Emily had spent the ride staring at Anna, and Morgan had split the ride between focusing on the road and glancing in his rearview mirror at the two of them. Hotch and the others got to the BAU before them, so Morgan and Emily flanked Anna on either side as they made the short walk from the parking garage to the elevators and then to the bullpen. Apparently someone had decided to fill Garcia in, because she was pacing around Emily's desk, tottering in her hot pink heels and all but knocked Reid out of her way when she saw them approach.

"Oh, oh," she uttered, running toward the three of them. She carefully held Anna's face between her hands. "What happened to you?"

"It's good to see you too, Penelope," Anna grinned.

"I would hug you, but I'm afraid of squeezing somewhere that hurts," Garcia admitted.

Anna used her free hand to grab Garcia's. "I'm fine. And I've missed your hugs." She arched an eyebrow at the amused look on Morgan's face. "Among other things."

"Come on come on come on, let's get you sitting," she motioned for Anna to follow her. "Do you want some coffee? Or a cupcake? I made them for Kevin this morning, but I always keep a few out to bring to work with me because sometimes, you know, you just need a cupcake."

"Garcia," Hotch interrupted. "Take a breath. Go find something helpful to do."

"Yes. Right away, commander sir," she saluted Hotch. "I'm bringing you a cupcake when I come back," she stabbed a finger at Anna. "You're too skinny. And so are you," she indicated Emily. "Too tired and too skinny."

"Garcia."

"Sorry sir. I'm going. Tootles!" She scurried off toward her office and Anna settled into Emily's desk chair. Hotch sat in front of her, in Reid's chair, while Morgan and Rossi leaned against Morgan's desk. JJ and Emily stood behind Hotch, facing Anna while Reid took Morgan's chair.

"Tell me what happened this morning," Hotch prompted, wasting no time.

Anna closed her eyes as she recalled the events that seemed like they'd happened so much longer ago than just this morning. "I woke up around four, packed my bags, and went for a run," she paused, not sure of how to continue. She opened her eyes and glanced over Hotch's shoulder at Emily, who inclined her head as if to say _keep going_.

"Why were you up so early?" Hotch drew Anna's attention back to him.

"I couldn't sleep. I had a nightmare," she admitted, which was actually true.

"About what?"

"The fire."

"What happened in the dream?" Hotch cocked his head slightly.

"Exactly what happened in real life. I had woken everyone up, but when we got to the front door, it was locked. I unlocked it but it was swollen shut from the heat. Everyone was screaming, the kids were crying. I got it open in real life but in the dream I couldn't. That's when I woke up."

"And when you woke up you decided to go for a run?"

"Running calms me down. I knew I was going to head here later, but I knew Emily wouldn't be up that early. The hotel I was staying at was close enough to my normal route that I decided to do it."

"You run the same route every morning?" Hotch verified.

Anna nodded. "Through the park."

"What happened then?"

"I couldn't finish the whole run; I made it about five miles before I had to turn around. Right after I started running back toward the hotel I felt something hit me from behind and I think I must have blacked out," Anna lied smoothly. Behind Hotch, Emily let out a slow breath that JJ attributed to the stress of hearing what Anna had been through.

"Think back to right before you were hit," Hotch prompted softly. "Did you see anything out of the ordinary?"

Anna shook her head slowly. "There wasn't really anyone out that early. There were a couple of cars parked on the street but that's it."

"What kind of cars?"

Anna sighed. "I don't know. A couple of sedans, maybe an SUV? I wasn't really paying attention."

"That's okay. What else do you remember? What happened after you woke up?"

"I was tied up in the trunk of a car. I don't know how long we drove for but I know that when we stopped, it was at least an hour before they let me out."

"How do you know that?"

"Trunks are boring. I counted," Anna quipped. "They opened the trunk and I realized that we were behind Emily's building."

"You keep saying 'they'. How many of them were there?"

"Two," Anna said with a definitive nod.

"What did they look like?"

"I don't know. They were wearing masks, I never saw their faces."

"Did they say anything to you? Did you hear them talking to each other at all?"

"They never said anything to me, and I couldn't really hear what they said to each other," Anna lied, risking a brief glance at Emily.

"Was there anything familiar about them at all? Anything you recognized?"

Anna shook her head. "Nothing, I'm sorry." She wrung her hands convincingly.

"That's fine. What happened when they let you out of the trunk?"

"They cut me loose and we went in through the back entrance of the building. They walked me straight up to Emily's place and one of them picked the lock to get inside. When we got in they forced me upstairs and into Emily's bedroom. One of them hit me with his gun and tied me up again. He hit me again after that and I think I blacked out. The next thing I remember is seeing Emily in the doorway." Anna met Emily's eyes. "I'm sorry; I know that's really not helpful."

"Neither of the men said anything to you?" Hotch verified.

Anna shook her head. "No, they were only talking to each other and I couldn't make out what they were saying."

"Do you have any idea who would do this? Anyone with a grudge against you?"

"Or Emily," Reid piped up. "They picked Emily's apartment for a reason, there has to be some significance in that."

"No one that I can think of."

Rossi turned to Emily. "What about you? Anyone you can think of?"

Emily's reaction was just a beat too late. She'd been staring past Anna, at nothing in particular with a faraway look on her face. She snapped her head around to face Rossi. "No. No one."

A look of comprehension dawned on Reid's face. "Anna, what happened the night of the fire?"

"I already told you," she said, confused.

"I know. Tell us again."

"I woke up and noticed the smoke. The smoke detectors weren't going off, so no one else was awake. I woke everyone up and we went downstairs, but the front door was stuck. I got it open and we ran out right before the building exploded," she summarized.

"Why weren't the smoke detectors going off?" Morgan asked.

"I don't know," Anna said, somewhat defensively. "I had just changed the batteries the month before. I don't know why they didn't go off."

"How did they rule the case?" JJ asked. "Accidental?"

"Arson," Garcia's voice popped up from behind them. "It was ruled as arson. They found traces of accelerant and explosives in the ruins of the building," she walked toward them with a stack of files clutched in her hands.

Damn. Emily had been hoping to gloss over that detail. She and Anna shared a look that was not lost on the rest of the team.

"Did you know about this?" Morgan demanded of Anna, his finger stabbing at the file he held.

"I was notified yesterday," Anna admitted.

"And you didn't think it was relevant to share?" he asked incredulously.

"I guess I never made the connection that they were related," Anna answered coolly.

"The fact that you were the victim in both cases didn't clue you in?" he asked.

Wrong word choice. Anna leaned forward in the chair and shot Morgan a glare that was reminiscent of Strauss. "I'm not a victim. The crimes are completely different, Derek. How could you possibly know they're related?"

"Oh! I can answer that!" Garcia piped up helpfully, hoping to diffuse some of the tension. "I pulled the video footage from your security cameras on the night of the fire."

"How did you do that? The cameras were destroyed," Anna said.

"Yeah, but you, smartypants, stored your footage digitally. I just had to do a little creative hacking."

"Wonderful," Emily said unconvincingly, her heart sinking. Surely someone of interest had showed up on the camera footage.

Garcia faltered, confused by her reaction. "Well, I uh, I got a shot of the guy who might have started the fire," she said hesitantly. She tapped a couple of buttons on her tablet and switched on the television near their end of the bullpen. A grainy photo popped up and they could make out the figure of a large, scruffily bearded man. Emily and Anna both recognized him instantly; it was Liam.

"Sorry, that's the best quality I could get," Garcia apologized.

"Do either of you recognize him?" Hotch asked, looking only at Emily, who shook her head.

"Me neither," Anna lied. Again.

Garcia looked at her quizzically. "But-" She was interrupted by the shrill ringing of Emily's phone. She looked at the caller ID and when she saw that it read "Blocked Number", her face paled even more than normal.

"I have to take this," she said softly. She walked a distance away, toward the conference room, before putting the phone to her ear. She kept walking, needing to be away from her team for this, even as Doyle started purring in her ear.

"Did you like your gift?" he asked

"There are easier ways to facilitate a family reunion, Ian," Emily quipped. "But from now on, leave my sister out of things."

"Oh come on Emily, you know that won't happen," he laughed.

"What do you want?"

"I've told you. I want you to suffer for what you did to me and Declan," Doyle growled, all trace of laughter gone from his voice.

"Then come and get me. We'll settle this between us. No one else needs to get hurt."

"Come and get you? Do you really think I'm that stupid?" he spat. "I'd be walking into a trap and you know it. No luv, if you want to end this, you come to me. You know where. But until then, by all means, continue hiding behind the ones you claim to love." Doyle disconnected before Emily could respond. She threw her phone on the table and ran her hands through her hair. She took a breath and turned around only to come face to face with Hotch.

"Who was that?" he asked, inclining his head slightly to indicate the phone.

"Wrong number," Emily lied.

"Emily, I don't know what's going on, and I can't help if you won't let me," he looked at her intensely.

"Hotch, this isn't something you can fix."

"But you can?"

"I have to," she lowered her eyes.

"Emily, let us help you. Tell us what's going on."

"I already told you I can't," she said stubbornly.

"Why not?" Hotch asked, his lips tight. "You said that no one else needed to get hurt. Emily, let us help you. Do you know who hurt Anna?"

She shook her head. "I don't know, Hotch. Why don't you go see if you can do a cognitive interview with her? Maybe that'll give you something," Emily suggested desperately.

Hotch gave her a look that didn't quite reach the status of being a glare, but it came close. He turned and walked out of the conference room without another word.

Anna looked up anxiously when he approached. "What did she say?"

"Nothing. Do _you_ know what's going on? Do you know who's behind this?"

"No," she said definitively.

"And you don't know who brought you here?" Hotch verified.

"I already told you I didn't."

Garcia spoke up timidly, which had to be a first. "Um, sir? I have video footage from this morning. I couldn't get anything from the park but there's a street camera right outside Emily's building that I used."

"Put it on the screen," Hotch ordered without taking his eyes away from Anna's. She flicked her eyes to the screen and back, knowing that her bullshit story about the masked men was about to fall apart. Sometimes she wished Garcia wasn't so good at her job. She felt other eyes on her and knew Morgan was watching her too. Purposely, she looked to the television screen and kept watching, hoping the others would follow suit.

There wasn't sound, but the footage spoke for itself. Liam and Doyle dragged Anna out of the backseat of the SUV, not the trunk of a car, and guided her up the stairs. Neither was wearing a mask and Doyle spoke to her directly, leaning in close to whisper in her ear.

"That's all I have," Garcia whispered, not quite understanding the reactions of those around her since she hadn't heard Anna's bogus story of events.

"They wore masks and didn't say anything to you at all?" Morgan asked icily; his arms were folded tightly across his chest.

Anna didn't say anything.

"Anna, what is going on?" JJ asked from behind her. She looked to the conference room where Emily was still hidden. "Tell us so we can help you," she was using the same voice she used with the families of victims, soft and understanding. Anna, a counselor herself, saw right through it.

She stood abruptly, swaying slightly as a sense of vertigo passed over her. "I need to talk to Emily."

"Need to get your stories straight?" Reid asked. He felt betrayed; he'd trusted Emily with so many of his secrets and fears and she was still hiding hers from him.

Anna looked pleadingly at all of them. "Just let me talk to her," she begged Rossi, who was unintentionally standing in her way. He turned his body to allow her to pass and she took the stairs two at a time to the conference room.

"Garcia's office. Now," Hotch ordered. Garcia led the way to her lair and the team filed inside.

"Pull up audio and video from the cameras in the conference room," Hotch ordered. Rossi's head turned sharply.

"Aaron, are you sure you want to do this?" he asked.

"I don't have a choice," Hotch answered grimly.

Garcia tapped a few keys on her keyboard and the screens in front of her filled with images of the conference room. She selected the one with the best angle and toggled a knob on her speakers to turn the volume up.

Hotch stared at the screens, fervently hoping that whatever Emily and Anna were about to discuss was easily fixable. But really, he knew that wasn't going to be the case. Emily didn't worry about the little things. Somehow, he knew this was big and he also knew it was probably going to get worse before it got better.


	7. Chapter 7

Anna walked slowly into the conference room. Emily had sunk down into one of the plush chairs and was facing away from the door. Everything about her posture screamed 'defeated' and Anna had never known Emily to act this way. She shut the door behind her and walked to stand behind Emily. Shrugging out of her sling - that thing truly annoyed her - she set it on the table and ran her fingers through Emily's hair, expertly beginning to work it into a French braid.

"Necesitamos hablar. Me parece imposible que ellos no sepan nada."

"What did she just say?" Morgan asked, frustrated. His Spanish consisted of "Back off, I'm a cop," and "Where's the bathroom?"

"She said that they need to talk and that she can't believe we don't know anything." Reid translated.

"Shhh." Garcia hushed sharply. On the screen, a ghost of a smile passed over Emily's face. She and Anna had done this as kids when they didn't want other people to know what they were talking about. She answered in Arabic.

"I can't tell them."

Reid named the language and translated so quickly that no one had a chance to ask what she'd said.

"Emily, you need to tell them. They have a right to know what's going on, and they can help."

"Is that Russian?" JJ asked.

Reid nodded. "Anna wants Emily to tell us everything."

Emily sighed and answered back in a language that was unfamiliar to all of them.

"Let me guess…gibberish?" Morgan asked, annoyed.

Anna faltered on the screen and eventually broke into a regretful smile. "That's not fair!" she tugged Emily's hair gently. "You know my Swahili sucks."

"I've gotten a little rusty," Emily admitted.

"How's your Gaelic?" Anna asked quietly.

Emily's face darkened and she stood angrily, turning sharply to face her sister, her hair falling out of its braid and back onto her shoulders. "I can't believe you just asked me that!" she hissed.

Anna rolled her eyes. "Emily, come on. You and I both know who brought me here. He admitted to being behind the fire."

"You talked to him?"

"It's kind of a long drive, Em," Anna said, sitting in one of the plush chairs that surrounded the table.

"What else did he say?"

"That he's going to kill me. And you," she added as an afterthought.

Emily sat back down, knee to knee with Anna. "I'm sorry I brought you into this."

"You didn't. He did," Anna said firmly, leaning forward. "Emily, he's doing this to get to you."

"I know," Emily sighed resignedly.

"Why haven't you told them?" Anna asked softly. "The team. They could help you."

Emily shook her head slowly. "I can't tell them."

"Why? What's stopping you?" Comprehension dawned. "He threatened them, didn't he?" When Emily nodded she continued. "Then you _have_ to tell them. They deserve to know."

"If I tell them, they'll go after him," Emily said in a low voice. "Then how can I protect them?"

"Emily, who's protecting you?"

"I don't need protection."

"Bull," Anna leaned back in her chair. "You're not telling me everything. I get that you want to protect them and that's admirable. But there's more to it."

"No, there's not," Emily glared.

"You know, you've never been good at lying to me. Why do you insist on trying to get away with it?" she softened her tone. "Why haven't you told them?"

Emily fought to keep her voice from shaking. "Anna, the things I did...with him, to him...to Declan," her voice wavered. "How do I explain that? They're going to hate me. Hotch-"

"Hotch will understand. Emily, you were doing your _job_."

"Yeah but Anna, they're not going to see it that way."

"You won't know until you put it out there. Emily, you have to trust that they care about you enough to stand by you."

"I do trust them. But this..."

"Do you? Do you really trust them?" Anna asked. "Because if you really truly trusted them, if you had faith in the strength of your relationships, you wouldn't think twice about telling them this. Emily you can say this is about protection all you want but that's only part of it. The real question is, do you trust your team?"

"Yes," Emily answered definitively.

"Yes what?"

"Yes, I trust my team."

"Why?"

Emily did a double take. "What?"

"Why do you trust them?"

"What kind of question is that?"

"Emily, it's one thing to say what the other person wants to hear and it's something entirely different to mean it. Why do you trust your team? Individually, each person. What makes you trust them?"

Emily stared at her. "I'm waiting," Anna said impatiently.

Emily sighed. "I trust Garcia because she's one of my best friends and she's never judged me for any decision I made. I trust JJ for the same reason, and because she's a mom, she might have a shot at understanding why I did what I did." Emily took a breath. "Rossi was the first person I told about Rome and he was so accepting...and Morgan has my back no matter what. He's never let me down, even when he thinks he has. And Reid...Reid knows what it's like to deal with demons. Mainly I trust him because he trusts me, or at least he seems to."

"And Hotch?" Anna prompted.

"Hotch...I trust Hotch because he takes all the parts of me, good and bad, in stride. He's a little bit of everyone else all wrapped into one. And he more than anyone else is going to understand this because he's gone to the extreme to save people he loves," Emily concluded. Anna leaned back in her chair with a satisfied look on her face. "There you go then."

Emily sighed. "Are you going to let up on this?"

"Nope," Anna grinned at first, but sobered at the look on Emily's face. "Listen Em, I'm not going to tell them. I'm not going to make you tell them. I'm going to heavily suggest that you tell your team what is going on." She leaned forward again and grabbed Emily's hand. "Feathers, if they love you as much as you love them they're not going to turn their backs on you," Anna said softly.

Emily took a deep breath and nodded. "Okay." Before she could stop herself, she pressed a button on the console on the conference table. Garcia jumped when the phone in her office buzzed.

"Garcia, can you get everyone into the conference room?"

"Uh, yeah," she responded guiltily. "Guys, go to the conference room," she whispered.

"You too, PG," Emily added.

Garcia squeaked her assent and tottered out of her office after everyone else.

"Want me to go?" Anna asked quietly as everyone entered the room. She was standing beside Emily, near the television set that was mounted to the wall. Emily shook her head and squeezed Anna's arm.

"I need you here for this," she admitted.

"You know, I don't think I have the appropriate security clearance," Anna cracked softly.

Emily snorted. "Neither does anyone else here. Except JJ."

"That could be your way out," Anna pointed out.

Emily shook her head. "No, I'm doing this." She surveyed her audience after everyone was seated. Rossi and JJ looked expectant, Garcia and Reid slightly confused, and Morgan looked pissed. And Hotch...she couldn't read, which was nothing new, but she still wished she had some inkling as to what he was thinking. She took a breath and felt Anna squeeze her hand.

"I-don't know where to start," she faltered.

"I lied to you this morning," Anna spoke up. "Which you all already know. I know who brought me here, and I know who destroyed my building."

"Who?" Morgan asked sharply.

Emily took over. "His name is Ian Doyle. He's an ex-IRA arms dealer."

"What does an international arms dealer want with you?" Reid asked Anna.

"Not her. Me," Emily said. Her eyes were drawn to JJ, who looked utterly unsurprised by this revelation and Emily realized with a jolt that during her time with the State Department, she would have had access to Doyle's file. JJ gave her a small smile that prompted Emily to continue.

"Before I joined the BAU, I was part of a CIA task force. Our job was to infiltrate Doyle's network and bring it down from the inside. It took months, but we did it. Doyle was taken into custody and shipped to a prison in North Korea."

"And now he's out," Rossi surmised.

"I don't know how. But he is," Emily confirmed. "The murders that have happened over the past few weeks, including Tsia's from this morning, are all Doyle's work. Sean, Jeremy, Tsia, and I made up the task force. Our handler was a man named Clyde Easter. I don't know where he is."

"So Doyle has been systematically taking out your ex-team members and you don't even tell us?" Reid asked angrily.

"Doyle is killing them and everyone they're close to. I didn't want to put you at risk," Emily explained, a pleading tone coloring her voice.

"That's why he's going after Anna," Rossi verified. "It was a message for you."

Emily nodded.

"Has he made contact with you?" JJ asked. Emily nodded again. "When?"

"I saw him about a week ago. The night of the fire."

"Why didn't he take you out then?" Morgan asked harshly. Not that he wanted Emily dead, but right now he was so mad he could barely see straight.

"Because Ian likes to cause people pain. By leaving me alive, he leaves the threat of him getting to someone I care about hanging over my head. And then he got to Anna. Twice. He's telling me that I can try whatever I want but that I'm not going to win. That's why I didn't tell you. He's not your typical Unsub, you can't get into his head."

"But _you _did," Hotch finally said, surveying her closely. "You called him Ian. How close were you?"

"I was put on the task force not just because I was a capable agent. I was Ian's type. Romantically," she finally admitted.

"How long were you on this assignment?" Hotch asked.

"Eight months. Long enough for him to trust me, to let me in and give me enough to put him away."

"Long enough for you to sleep with him?" Morgan threw out.

"Derek," Anna said sharply.

"What, you don't have a problem with this?" He turned to Hotch. "Do _you_?"

Emily waited anxiously for Hotch's answer. "No," he said finally. "Sometimes you have to do whatever you have to, consequences be damned." He met Emily's eyes and she knew he was talking about Foyet. "What happened after Doyle went to North Korea?"

"I thought that was the end of it. We all did. But when I heard that Jeremy had been killed, I looked into things and found out that he'd escaped. He made his way here and I'm the only one left on his list."

"What did he say to you when you saw him?" Reid asked.

"That he was going to kill me and anyone else that came after him. That's why I didn't want to tell you."

"So it had nothing to do with you being ashamed of the fact that you _slept_ with an arms dealer? Or that you've lied to us ever since you got here? Damn it Emily, you're my partner and you didn't feel the need to tell me any of this?" Morgan shouted.

"How did he find you?" JJ asked, trying to ease the tension. "Your cover was airtight."

"Lauren Reynolds," Reid whispered, recalling what he'd overheard earlier. "That was your cover, right?"

"Can't get anything past you, Dr. Reid," Emily joked weakly. "Lauren Reynolds was an arms dealer that started off brokering deals with Doyle. They grew close and the relationship turned from professional to personal. Lauren Reynolds was killed in a car crash; that was how I got out. Up until a few weeks ago, I thought Doyle thought that she-I-was dead."

Morgan glared at her incredulously. "Emily you're talking like Lauren Reynolds was an entirely separate person," he said slowly.

"Morgan, I had to make myself think that. It's the only way I made it through those eight months. I had to be Lauren Reynolds and when it was over, I had to put her away."

Her statement was met with an uneasy silence. Emily tried to meet Hotch's eye but he was having a silent conversation with Rossi. She felt the need to say something further to help explain her actions.

"This wasn't about you, it was about bringing Doyle down and about keeping Declan safe," Emily told him.

"Who the hell is Declan?" Morgan asked, confused.

Emily clamped her mouth shut and Anna knew she hadn't meant to bring Declan into this at all.

"Declan was Doyle's son," she told the team. "He had Emily wrapped around his finger," she paused.

"Doyle asked me to marry him," Emily reported. "He said that Declan needed a mother."

"Your answer?" Hotch asked quietly.

"I told him that I wasn't the marrying type," Emily said with a grim smile. "And that I couldn't raise Declan to live his father's life."

"Where is Declan now?" Hotch asked.

Emily looked to JJ for guidance and found none. Yes, she'd definitely read the file. "The last part of my assignment was to get leverage to use against Doyle during his interrogation in North Korea. Declan was the only thing the CIA could come up with and I was ordered to turn him over," Emily said hesitantly.

"So, what? You just gave him to the North Koreans?" Morgan asked.

"No! The things they would have done to him to get Doyle to talk..." her voice trailed off.

"What, the CIA then?" Reid guessed.

Emily hesitated and that was when Hotch knew.

"You killed him," he accused quietly, pain evident in his eyes.

"It was the only way," Emily explained helplessly, knowing that Hotch wouldn't understand, not after everything Jack had been through. "I couldn't turn him over to the North Korean officials and I couldn't turn him over to the CIA because they would have done the same thing. I took photos and sent those in to be used against Ian." Tears sprang to her eyes at the memory of pressing the gun to Declan's forehead and she blinked them back. "I didn't have a choice," she repeated.

"Come on, Prentiss, I know you're more creative than that," Morgan spat. "The only thing you could think of was to kill a kid?"

"I didn't know what to do," Emily whispered. "So I followed orders."

Morgan shook his head. "I can't do this," he stormed past Emily. "You disgust me."

Garcia followed him out, having been suspiciously quiet during the entire conversation. As she brushed past Emily she saw that her face was streaked with tears and she tossed a hurt glance in Emily's direction as she left the room.

Rossi stood, presumably to find Morgan and calm him down. He didn't smile but he did give her arm a small squeeze as he passed, as did JJ, who Emily knew couldn't fathom doing the things she'd done but who was willing to stand by her anyway. Reid got up next; looking lost more than anything else. "I don't even know who you are," he said softly.

"Hotch..." Emily said softly once everyone but Anna had left. "I need you to understand,"

"I don't," Hotch said simply. "But now is not the time for this. The team will help bring Doyle in. You're not to leave the building until we have him in custody. We'll figure everything else out after that." And without another word, he strode purposefully past the sisters, who were left standing huddled together.

"You did good, Em," Anna said softly.

"No." Emily shook her head. "I fucked up. And now I have to fix it."


	8. Chapter 8

**Hope you guys are liking this so far, let me know! And thanks to those who have been reviewing, I appreciate it!**

* * *

Emily obediently offered up all the information she knew about Doyle's areas of operation, cohorts that hadn't been captured or killed, and any other information she could recall. She'd sent Anna into the break room to get some sleep, ignoring the protests that she wasn't tired, which meant that Emily was on her own in talking to a stony faced Morgan, who said nothing more than the questions he needed answered.

"Morgan, listen," Emily started when he'd reached a break in the questioning.

"I don't want to hear it," he said icily.

"I didn't mean for you to find out this way," she told him.

"You didn't mean for us to found out at all," he accused.

"You're right. I didn't think it was important," she admitted.

"You didn't think it was important? You didn't think it was important to tell your _partner_ that you're ex-CIA, or that you've done extensive undercover work, or that, I don't know, you killed a six year old child?" he was fighting to keep his voice low, but he'd attracted stares from other agents in the bullpen nonetheless.

"Morgan I need you to understand. I didn't have a choice," Emily pleaded.

Morgan shook his head. "I can't understand. And I don't think I want to." He took a deep breath. "I can't even look at you right now."

Emily heard the dismissal and took it for what it was, slowly backing away from him, only to run into Hotch. Emily whirled around, half-expecting to see one of his trademark small smiles but getting absolutely nothing.

"Hotch, can we talk?" she hated how small her voice sounded. It seemed like Doyle had taken away the independence she thrived on. She was relieved when he gave her a curt nod and led the way to his office. He closed the door behind them and turned to her, arms folded.

"Hotch, you have to understand that I was doing what I had to in order to protect Declan. There wasn't any other option," she paused, waiting to see what Hotch would say. When he remained silent, she continued. "I couldn't let anyone use him as leverage, not that way."

"How did you do it?" Hotch asked quietly, throwing her off guard. "Did you slip something into his drink and just let him slip away in your arms? How, Emily, how did you take a six year old child's life?"

"Hotch, I-"

"How?"

"I shot him," she whispered.

"You shot him," Hotch repeated, stone faced, turning away from her. "He was Jack's age."

"I was protecting him," Emily repeated.

"That doesn't make it better. When Foyet was coming after Jack, not once did it cross my mind to kill him before Foyet got to him."

"Because you had us to back you up, Hotch. I didn't have anyone I could trust," Emily insisted. "I need you to understand this."

Hotch turned to face her. "I can't. I can't understand how you could have done something like this to someone so innocent." Emily forced her face to remain passive even as Hotch continued. "The team will bring Doyle down. After that, I'll expect your resignation on my desk. Strauss will re-assign you," he was looking at her as though she was the vilest creature on the planet.

"Hotch-" she begged softly. "Don't do this."

"I can't have someone on my team that no one trusts. You're no longer a good fit, and it's time to move on," his tone was cold and detached and that, more than anything, told Emily that he meant what he was saying.

"Understood," Emily said solidly, brushing past Hotch and stopping in the doorway. "I hope one day you can forgive me," she whispered, closing the door gently behind her.

She blindly made her way to the break room but once she was there, she realized that she couldn't bring herself to wake Anna up, not for this. Some small part of her knew that she was taking the coward's way out but another part of her didn't think she could handle doing things the other way. She took a tablet of paper and scrawled a short note, leaving it nestled under Anna's arm, along with her badge and her cell phone. She backed out of the room and walked to her desk, where she took her gun out of the top drawer. She checked it out of habit and when she was satisfied she tucked it into her waistband and pulled her shirt down to conceal it. She sat at her desk and fired off a quick email that needed to be sent and when that was done, she stood, surveying the bullpen one last time. Satisfied that no one was looking at her, she quickly strode through the glass doors and eschewed the elevator in favor of the stairs.

She stopped at a gas station when she was a few blocks away and paid cash for a burner cell. She tucked it into her pocket and kept walking, plans forming in her head. She turned down an alley and saw exactly what she was looking for: a nondescript silver sedan that looked maybe three years old. She expertly jimmied the lock and, bending under the steering wheel, quickly hotwired it, allowing herself a small grin of satisfaction as the engine roared to life.

She climbed in and took off, gunning the engine and allowing the stolen car to carry her closer and closer to Boston.

* * *

Anna woke up more groggy than refreshed and her shoulder was stiff and achy. She sat up slowly and shrugged into her sling. Her movements sent Emily's badge and phone clattering to the floor and she picked them up curiously, setting them on the sofa next to her when she noticed the carefully folded piece of paper stuck between the cushions. With a sense of dread settling in the pit of her stomach, she unfolded it and read the few lines scrawled there in Emily's uneven writing.

_Anna Banana, _

_I can't let anything happen to them. I know you'll forgive me, even if they can't. Love you._

_Feathers_

"Shit," Anna muttered angrily. She grabbed the note and Emily's things before storming out of the room. She found the team convened in the conference room, going over potential places where Doyle could be hiding.

"She's gone," Anna said breathlessly.

"Who?" JJ asked. She was standing next to the television screen and had been mid-speech when Anna interrupted.

"Who do you think? Emily's gone." She watched their faces change and knew that despite their harsh words from earlier they hadn't been able to just turn off their feelings for her sister.

"Gone where?" Hotch asked.

"I don't know!" Anna said exasperatedly. "She left me a note with her badge and her cell. I don't know how long she's been gone."

"What did the note say?" Morgan asked.

Anna was getting angry. They didn't need to be sitting here asking asinine questions that weren't helping to find Emily. "That she didn't want anything to happen to you, and that she didn't think you would forgive her for what she'd done to Declan. What would've given her that idea?" she accused, her eyes flashing between Morgan and Hotch.

"Leaving was a stupid thing to do," Morgan told her coldly.

"What did you say to her?" Anna asked again.

"I told her how I felt. Honestly," Morgan said frankly. "That I couldn't believe that she'd done the things she'd done and that she'd lied to us about them."

"And you?" Anna turned her glare to Hotch, not caring if she was being unfair to them.

"I told her that I would have her re-assigned. That there was no place on this team for someone no one can trust," he said quietly.

"Are you kidding me?" Anna demanded. "Over this?"

"There are some things that can't just be swept away. There are some things that I can't tolerate and number one on that list is dishonesty within my team."

"So it has nothing to do with what happened to Declan?" Anna verified incredulously.

"It has everything to do with the fact that Agent Prentiss is not the person she led us to believe she was. She neglected to inform her superiors of several key aspects of her life, one of which, yes, was Doyle and Declan," he said in an official tone.

"Face it, Hotch, you gave Emily a hard time from day one. If she'd come to you, already in a battle to be placed on your team, and told you everything that had happened, would you have welcomed her with open arms?" she challenged. "No, you would have turned on her then, just as you're doing now. Emily isn't the monster you think she is, and you know her better than you think you do right now. Consider getting all the facts before passing judgment."

"How can we get all the facts if she's gone?" Reid piped up, hurt clouding his voice. "She left; she still doesn't trust us.

Anna threw her hands up for lack of anything better to do with them. "She left so that _you_ wouldn't go after him. She's willing to sacrifice herself for you. And right now, she doesn't think she has anything to lose, because you've basically told her that there's no hope of mending relationships with any of you. She's desperate to keep you safe, and to stop Doyle, at whatever cost, including her own life." Anna leaned forward and pressed her palms flat on the table. "If anything happens to her, just know that it's on you, _all_ of you, and that it happened while she was protecting you." She spun on her heels with every intention of waiting this out in the break room she'd just vacated but stopped in the doorway. "Emily protects people; that's what she does best. She's not the monster you think she is. Keep that in mind." With one last withering glare aimed in Morgan's general direction, she marched out.

"So where do we go from here?" Rossi asked after a few minutes of contemplative silence.

"I say we let Emily and Doyle finish what they started," Morgan suggested.

"You don't mean that," JJ told him softly.

"No, I don't," he admitted. "But what are our other options? We have no idea where Doyle is, or where Emily is headed."

"We profile them. Doyle as the Unsub, Emily as the victim," Hotch decided. "Reid, work up a geographic profile based on Doyle's past movements and any intel we've got since he showed up here. JJ, I want you and Rossi to see if you can find Clyde Easter and get him in here. We need to know what he knows. Morgan, go back to the latest crime scene and see what you can find. When you're done there, go over the evidence collected at the other crime scenes and see what you can find. I know everyone is upset right now, but Prentiss is still a member of this team, and we protect our own. Personal feelings should be put aside until this is resolved. Anyone who has a problem with that, or who feels as though they are unable to work this case, can be excused with no questions asked." Hotch waited a beat to see if anyone would get up and leave but no one did. "Fine. Get to work. I've got to go talk to Strauss."

Strauss took the news in stride. "It was only a matter of time before you found out," she said matter-of-factly, shuffling a pile of papers on her desk.

"You knew about this?" Hotch inquired, turning his head to the side ever so slightly, as he'd taken to doing after the explosion in New York a few years back.

"Of course I knew. It was part of the reason I thought Agent Prentiss would be a valuable asset to your team; she has extensive experience in probing the minds of killers," Strauss explained. Sensing Hotch's discontentment, she continued. "You don't agree?"

"I don't like not being told the full story regarding any of my agents," he said simply.

"I didn't think the specifics of her assignment were of any relevance to her placement on your team," she sniffed condescendingly. "If I was mistaken, I apologize, of course."

Hotch turned to leave but Strauss spoke up as his hand hit the doorknob.

"Agent Prentiss is a superior agent, Aaron. Don't forget that."

Hotch left Strauss' office and ran smack into JJ, who had apparently been waiting outside.

"Hotch, local PD just reported a stolen car taken from an alley a few miles from here. I've already got Garcia tracing the GPS," she reported.

"Good," was all Hotch had to say before brushing past her but he stopped suddenly, as though a new thought had occurred to him, which in fact it had. He whirled around to face JJ and tried to soften the glare that seemed etched on his face.

"You seemed unsurprised by everything Emily told us," he said questioningly. "As if you'd heard it before."

There was no hesitation on JJ's part. "I had the opportunity to read over her file while I was at the State Department. This was all in there."

"And?"

"It's exactly what she said, Hotch. She was recruited for the task force because she was Doyle's type. She was tasked with infiltrating his organization and getting as close to him as possible. Doyle did have a son named Declan who was killed, along with his nanny Louise. Pictures were used as proof of death and sent to North Korea to be used against Doyle." Her fingers tapped the folder she held."

"Let me see," Hotch demanded.

"Hotch, you don't need to see those."

"Yes, I do." He tugged the folder from her grasp and extracted the photos. One was of a small blonde child and an older, heavyset woman, presumably Declan and his nanny. They were bound and gagged with duct tape, propped up against some kind of stone wall, in a warehouse maybe. Declan's piercing blue eyes seemed to be looking right at Hotch, as though the boy was here in front of him. Hotch looked at the other photo, of the same two people, who were both clearly dead. They were slumped over against the same wall blood trickled out from beneath their hairlines. But what struck him most powerfully was the pale, outstretched hand that held a gun in the second photo, aimed at the dead bodies. His eyes zeroed in on the fingernails, which were bitten down and mutilated, exactly how Emily's looked when she bit hers. He calmly put the photos back in the folder and handed it back to JJ.

"Hotch, she was doing what she thought was best," she began.

He cut her off. "If someone was coming after Henry, would you kill him before they got a chance to?"

"I don't-" she faltered, wanting desperately to say that she couldn't know what she would do without being confronted with the situation.

"JJ. Would you be able to kill your own son?"

Finally, she shook her head. "Hotch, Declan wasn't Emily's son, she was doing what she thought-"

"He thought of her as his mother," Hotch argued, imagining the way Declan and Emily would have interacted, just as she and Jack did. Declan would have been smitten with her, loved her, and been loved by her. And some dark part of Emily had been able to end that without a second thought. "What she did is unforgivable."

"But she doesn't deserve to die for it," JJ argued resolutely.

Hotch looked at the stubbornness and loyalty etched in her face. "No, she doesn't. So let's find her."


	9. Chapter 9

Emily pulled up to the Black Clover a few hours later, after visiting an out of the way hole in the wall to get what she needed. Her stolen car was now loaded with a half dozen flash-bang grenades, a small pistol was concealed at her ankle, and a submachine gun sat on the passenger seat next to her. In addition to her service weapon, she was as prepared as she was going to get for this fight.

Her mind kept flashing back to Quantico, about what might happen when they figured out she'd left. Anna would be worried, naturally. She of all people knew what Doyle was capable of and Emily knew that Anna would know immediately what she was up to. Other reactions were harder to predict. Had the team not known the extent of her involvement with Doyle, she knew they would have sprung into action immediately. They would have been hurt that she'd left without telling them what was going on, but that wouldn't stop them from doing everything possible to find her. Now though, she didn't know what to expect. She hoped that their anger at her wouldn't cloud their desire to bring down a ruthless killer...or their desire to help her.

For the time being though, she had to assume that she was operating on her own and that she had no backup. She mulled her plan over in her head while she waited, noting the gaps, the faults, and the opportunities for things to go extremely wrong. But she didn't have time to wait around and come up with something better; she had one shot at this.

As if she'd conjured him out of thin air, she saw her target saunter out of the bar, lifting an unlit cigarette to his lips as he flipped his lighter on. He took a deep breath and wandered farther away from the entrance to the pub. When he was far enough away, Emily took a deep breath, grabbed her Glock and got out of the car, closing the door with a soft click. She crept up behind the smoker without a sound and pressed her gun to the back of his neck.

"Not a sound," she hissed. She pushed him away from the bar toward an alley that was sufficiently dark to conceal the pair of them. Only when they were hidden behind a dumpster did Emily spin him around by his shoulders so they were face to face.

"Hello Fahey," she intoned.

Fahey's face changed from an expression of fear to one of recognition. "L-Lauren," he stuttered. "Long time no see sweetheart."

Emily jabbed her gun into his forehead. "You look like hell, Fahey," she whispered. "Doyle's not happy with you, is he? All the information you offered up after he was captured."

"Hey now," Fahey held his hands up defensively. "It was every man for himself at that point. And he's none too happy with you either, with you supposedly dead and all."

"Where is he, Fahey?"

"Ian? I have no idea." Emily pressed her gun harder into his temple. "Ow, ow, ow, okay, okay. He's close. Word is he's been waiting for you." He growled in pain and sank to his knees as Emily hit him in the temple with her gun

"Where is he?" she asked again, enunciating each word carefully.

"Right here luv," she heard from behind her. She whirled around as Doyle's bullets hit her, one in the chest and one in the abdomen. _This wasn't how it was supposed to go_, she thought to herself as she fell to the ground. She thought of the arsenal in her car, the arsenal she was supposed to use to take down Doyle. Instead, she saw his face looming over her as he bent down to unbutton her coat. He patted the vest she wore. "There it is," he said, as though one of his great expectations had been realized. "You were foolish to come alone," he told her as he stood, kicking her fallen gun farther away from her hand. Emily struggled to catch her breath; the vest had done its job but the bullets had knocked the wind out of her. "But I expected nothing less." Those were the last words he spoke before drawing his foot back and connecting it solidly with her cheek. Emily had one last flash of his angry eyes before she blacked out.

* * *

"Okay, here's what I have," Garcia reported as she waltzed into the conference room, interrupting the stony silence that had taken over as everyone pored over their individual leads on Doyle's possible whereabouts. Anna was sitting on the sofa, listening to the various conversations going on around her. The bruising on her face had started to fade slightly, so one side of her face was a bluish purple color. "Emily left her phone here so I couldn't track her that way. But, here's what I could do. A car was stolen out of an alley a few miles away. I hacked into the DMV database and found out that that particular car had a GPS system. It was turned off, but I, in all of my awesomeness, remotely activated it," she paused to take a breath but continued quickly. "Anyway, it took some doing, but I tracked the car. It's in Boston, and it hasn't moved in over five hours."

"Boston? What's in Boston?" Morgan asked.

"Ian Doyle," an accented voice spoke from the doorway. Everyone's heads snapped up to stare at the clean-cut man in the doorway. Anna stood quickly, recognizing him instantly.

"Who are you?" Hotch asked.

"He works with Doyle. He was driving the car that brought me here," Anna told the team, prompting them to draw their weapons.

The man held his hands up defensively. "I'm not your enemy," he told them. "I'm going to reach into my pocket and pull out my identification."

"Slowly," Morgan ordered. The man obliged and flashed an ID at the team, identifying him as none other than Clyde Easter.

"Emily's CIA handler?" Reid asked.

"The very same," he folded his credentials and put them back in his pocket.

"What are you doing here?" Morgan asked.

"Hopefully saving Emily," he said cryptically.

"Why are you still alive, if you're not working for Doyle?" Anna asked angrily. "Everyone else on the team has been killed."

"Why don't you start from the beginning?" Rossi suggested.

Easter settled into a chair. "To answer your first question, I really am here to try to save Emily. To answer your second question, the reason I'm not dead is because Doyle doesn't know who I am."

"Emily said the identities of your team members were compromised," Hotch argued.

"That's true. But you need to understand how the JTF-12 was structured. Emily, Jeremy, and Tsia were all on the same team. However, in order to protect them, they were each assigned a different handler. Emily was assigned to me. Since she _wasn't_ the one that sold the names of the team members to Doyle, he had no way of knowing who I was."

"So why were you with him?" Anna accused.

"After Doyle was sent to North Korea the team was disbanded and everyone went their separate ways. When he escaped, a plan was put in motion to protect those who had once been a part of bringing him down. Emily was at the thick of that operation, as I'm sure you know. Since Doyle didn't know me, I was assigned to become a part of his operation. I met up with some of his associates, made friends, and became one of his drivers."

"Why have you waited so long to come in?" JJ asked.

"I had to protect my cover, Agent. Getting myself killed wouldn't have helped anyone."

"What's Doyle's plan?" Morgan wanted to know.

"He wants revenge on Emily. I thought you lot were the best." Morgan made a move toward Easter but Anna put her hand on his arm. He shrugged it off and ran his hands over his head in exasperation.

"What happened during the original takedown?" Rossi asked.

"We got Emily out right before we brought Doyle in. We caught them in France, at his villa there. The French police took her into custody for questioning, as Lauren Reynolds, and were involved in a fatal car crash that killed her. Doyle was informed of this news before he was sent to North Korea. She, of course, was not really dead."

"Then what happened?" Reid prompted.

"Emily was ordered to obtain physical custody of Doyle's son."

"Declan," Garcia interjected. "His name was Declan."

Easter nodded his head in her direction. "Alright, Emily was ordered to take custody of Declan. He'd been placed in temporary police custody, along with his nanny, Louise. Emily and I got them out and took them to a secure location where we prepared them to be transported. They were bound and gagged and we took photos to send back to the CIA to show that we'd completed the mission. In the photo, Emily is pointing a gun at Declan's head." He pulled a folder out of his jacket and slid it across the table. Hotch removed the photo and glanced at it before pushing it away. It was Emily's hand, the bitten nails gave it away. But it was the boy's eyes that bothered him, bright blue and terrified.

Easter plowed on, ignoring the negative reaction. "The plan was that I would leave first, to make sure the transport was adequate. Emily was to stay behind and guard the boy and his nanny. I got a call from her an hour later. The nanny got free and tried to take Emily down, which would be a mistake for a grown man, let alone an old woman. In the ensuing struggle, Emily shot her. Declan apparently became wild and uncontrollable; he was making too much noise and Emily was forced to shoot him. She took pictures of their bodies and sent them to me, letting me know the mission had gone awry. She told me she would take care of the bodies and head back to the States, as was the original plan. I passed the photos along to the CIA, who then used them against Doyle."

"What did she do with the bodies?" Rossi asked.

"I have no idea. But I'm sure you know how resourceful that woman can be," Easter grinned. "There's a whole load of bodies she was responsible for disposing of that we never found."

"Then how do you know she went through with it?" Garcia asked, clinging to a final shred of hope. "Maybe she just hid them somewhere."

"And they haven't re-surfaced for eight years? Without using any of her contacts?" Easter asked incredulously. "Did you see the pictures? Shot in the head, both of them. How would she have done that and kept them alive?"

Garcia shrank back in her chair, unable to come up with anything else to throw at him.

"What exactly is it you want?" Morgan demanded angrily.

"I want the same thing you do. For Emily to be safe," he paused. "Or do you not care about that anymore now that her secret past has been exposed?" he mocked.

There was a tense beat of silence before Hotch spoke up. "What do you know?"

"Doyle's holed up in Boston. Other than a few trips down here," he nodded his head in Anna's direction. "He's been staying put."

"Is there anything you can tell us that we don't already know?" Hotch asked.

"He has Emily. She's fine for now," he added.

"Where?" Reid asked.

"They're at an abandoned warehouse just outside the city." He rattled off an address that Garcia quickly pulled up on one of her computer screens.

"And you know this how?" Rossi asked.

"I drove them there," Easter said slowly, as if Rossi was stupid.

"And you left her there to fend for herself?" Anna asked icily.

"My assignment is to preserve my cover at all costs," he said coldly.

"Emily would never give you up," Anna told him. "She would never do that. She'd die first."

Easter nodded. "I know. But I'm following orders. I'm not supposed to be here; I'm on my way back to London. You lot are a pit stop." He turned to face Hotch. "Can you promise me something?"

"That depends on what it is," Hotch answered.

"Promise me that you'll put a bullet in his head."

"I can't promise you that."

"Then promise me you'll bring her back safely."

Hotch nodded once and Easter turned to leave. "Garcia," he said, turning back to the team. "Where in Boston is Emily's car?"

"It's outside a bar called...The Black Clover."

"Hang on, I have something about that here," JJ's voice trailed off as she searched through her pile of papers. "Doyle first met Emily, as her alias, at the Black Clover." She looked around at the team. "

"And it hasn't moved in five hours?" Hotch verified. Garcia shook her head in response. "We're going to Boston. Immediately," he said. As one, the team rose from the table and filed out of the room to grab their go-bags. Rossi lingered to talk to Hotch.

"How are you holding up?" he asked sagely.

"I'm fine," Hotch responded tersely.

"Really? You just found out that one of the members of your team had a secret life with the CIA, that she was intimate with a terrorist, and that she killed a small child that was the same age as Jack. But you're fine," Rossi smirked. "Especially considering that you and she have been romantically involved on and off and the both of you have so many trust issues to begin with."

"Sometimes I really hate having you back," Hotch told him.

"You'd be lost without me. But seriously Aaron, if you want to talk about it..." his voice trailed.

"I know. Thanks Dave," Hotch gave him a tight smile as they walked toward their offices where they were intercepted by Anna.

"I'm coming with you," Anna insisted, even as Hotch shook his head.

"If Doyle is in Boston, there's no reason to put you anywhere near him. It could prompt him to act."

"And do what? Try to kill me again?" she asked.

"That's a possibility. You'll be safer here," Hotch told her, as Rossi agreed with a nod of his head.

Anna looked between the two of them. "But Emily's there," she affirmed. "When she got out, she was in an awful place," she dropped her voice a few levels. "She hated herself for what she'd done, and I didn't know if she was going to make it. It took her a long time to pull herself back together. Do not let Doyle rip her apart like that again, Hotch. I don't know if she could stand it," she pleaded.

"We'll do what we can," he responded stiffly.

"I know you're pissed," she told him. "Everyone is. But Emily's not a monster and she doesn't deserve to die at Doyle's hand," Anna concluded with finality.

"I never said she did," Hotch told her, taken aback. The thought had never crossed his mind that Emily deserved to die for what she'd done. "We're going to bring her back safely," he promised.

Anna nodded. "Glad to hear it. And I'm still coming with you."

"No, you're not," Hotch told her. "You're staying here, in protective custody." As Anna started to protest he spoke over her. "If Doyle gets to you, he could use you to hurt Emily."

Anna pursed her lips but didn't argue. She turned away and let Hotch storm past her. Rossi lingered, offering a kind smile that she did her best to return but then he too walked past her, squeezing her hand in a fatherly way before heading off in the same direction as Hotch. Anna was left staring after them as they joined the team at the bank of elevators. No one spoke and no one looked back in the two minutes they had to wait. She couldn't meet anyone's eye until after they'd boarded the elevator with Morgan riding front and center. He looked up at her and shot a small crooked smile her way. She felt her lips curling up involuntarily and she waved at him with two fingers. When the doors closed, she felt more alone than ever.

* * *

Emily woke up to a throbbing sensation on the right side of her face. She took in her surroundings, noting the dim lighting and the concrete walls. She figured she was in a warehouse and as she realized this, she immediately knew which one. She shifted her weight and felt the coolness of handcuffs encircling her wrists and binding her to the stiff wooden chair she sat in. Two thick lengths of rope held her ankles to the legs of the chair, rendering her immobile. Taking a deep breath, she steadied herself, willing her heartbeat to slow down.

She thought of the team, of how close to finding her they might be. Or how far. She knew they'd assume that she'd gone after Doyle. She knew the car she'd stolen had a GPS, and even though she'd turned it off to prevent Garcia from finding her too quickly, she knew that eventually they'd figure out where she was. They were diligent, so she knew they'd search the area around the pub, including the alley where she'd hit Fahey with her gun. His blood would be on the ground and they'd haul him in for questioning. Unless Doyle had killed him on the spot. But that was a chance she'd had to take; she needed to leave breadcrumbs and Fahey knew things that, if he was in the hands of the team, could help lead them to her. If they didn't get to him first, well, there were other ways to figure these things out.

When she was honest with herself, it call came down to the fact that she was putting all of her faith in her team. All of her _trust_ in her team. With a fleeting moment of what could be called insanity, she wondered what Dr. Anna would make of that. With that brought a bout of worry mixed with a twinge of sadness. She hated that she hadn't said goodbye to her sister, but knew that if she had, Anna would have found some way to stop her. Emily convinced herself that it was better this way; that Anna was safe and that no matter what happened to Emily, she would stay that way.

The sound of light footsteps pulled her back to reality and she cocked her head to try and get a better sense of where they were coming from. There was no door that she could see so she knew it had to be behind her, designed to throw her off and disorient her even further. Quicker than she'd anticipated she felt hands, _his_ hands squeeze her shoulder gently. He pressed his mouth to the top of her head and gave her a soft kiss, just as he'd done years ago.

"Hello again, luv," Ian whispered in her ear.


	10. Chapter 10

"Ian," Emily offered in greeting as Doyle walked so he was in front of her, dragging a chair behind him. He sat down across from her so that they were knee to knee and surveyed her face with a bemused look on his face. "Are you going to say anything or are you going to stare at me all night?" she asked coyly. It was easier than she thought to slip back into Lauren. She shifted her body as best as she could so that she looked more relaxed, slumping a little, as Lauren had always done.

"You are nice to look at," he acknowledged. "But no, I've got plans that involve more than just looking. Much more."

"Care to share?" she asked.

"You'll find out soon enough," Doyle told her. Silence fell over them again and Emily was determined not to give in by breaking it. She and Doyle were caught in a staring contest that seemed never-ending. Finally, Doyle chuckled. "You've still got your nerve," he acknowledged. "Always the tough one." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His face was only inches from hers. "How have you been, Emily?" he asked conversationally. "It's still strange to call you that, you know. It requires more of a...conscious effort."

"You want Lauren back?" Emily asked. "I can do that." And she could, she knew. She could keep him distracted long enough for her team to get here. Or get close enough to take him out herself.

Doyle's fist lashed out so fast she couldn't see it coming. She felt her head snap back and tasted blood as it filled her mouth. She spat a mouthful on the ground as Ian settled back in his chair.

"What I want, you can't give me," he hissed. "No one can. You made sure of that."

"I was protecting him," Emily panted, swallowing more blood.

"From his own father?" Doyle yelled, standing up in his rage. "I never would have done what you did."

"I was protecting him from your life, Ian. I told you once that I couldn't raise him to be like you."

"So instead, you didn't want him to have a life at all," he concluded, sitting back down. "Do you know what it was like for me? I lost Lauren and then, not even a month later, I lost Declan. And you were the cause of both of those losses. He died over there," Doyle pointed at the far wall. "But you know that. And that's where I'm gonna kill you," he promised. He stood and kicked his chair back. Emily braced herself for what didn't come. Instead, she heard Doyle roll a cart out of a dark corner of the room. "Do you still have just two tattoos? The rose on your ankle and the words on your ribs?"

"Just the two. And that's enough ink for me, thanks." She eyed the cart with apprehension.

Doyle started unbuttoning her shirt from behind, pulling it open and smoothing it down. "You know, in North Korea they're too poor to afford ink, so they brand themselves instead." He turned a dial on the cart and Emily caught a glow of red out of the corner of her eye. Doyle picked up the glowing metal rod with one hand, holding it so close to her skin that she could feel the heat coming off of it. Trapped, she was helpless as Doyle pushed her head back with his free hand, jutting his elbow under her chin to give himself a clear workspace. "It hurts less if you relax," he told her confidentially.

As much as she wanted to, she couldn't hold in her screams of pain as Doyle pressed the red-hot rod to her bare skin. Her flesh was searing in pain and it was unlike anything she'd experienced. High pain threshold though she had, this was far, far above it. She was vaguely aware of Ian shushing her while he worked, almost soothingly, as though it bothered him that she was in pain. She knew it was an act though, and that this was what he wanted. After a few minutes she found that the pain wasn't as intense as before and realized that she was going into shock. Her cries quieted into whimpers as Doyle finished his work. When he finally pulled back, Emily forced herself to look down at the inflamed area on her chest where a crudely branded clover now resided. Emily felt bile well up in her mouth and forced herself to take deep breaths so she wouldn't throw up.

Doyle slowly buttoned her shirt, ignoring her completely. "Brace yourself luv, that was only round one," he threatened. He shoved the cart aside, sending it crashing into the wall opposite.

"It didn't make you feel better, did it?" Emily asked. Doyle paused on his way out. "It didn't take away the pain you're feeling like you thought it would. Hurting me isn't going to bring Declan back."

"No, you made sure of that," Ian told her icily before walking out and leaving her completely alone.

* * *

The plane touched down in Boston in no time. The conversation during the flight had been practically nonexistent. As requested, there had been SUVs waiting for them at the airport and they split up, Morgan driving one and Hotch driving the other. The general consensus was that they would all start at the police station, since they had no crime scene yet.

The Boston PD had been alerted as to what was going on and the chief of police was waiting for them when they arrived. Hotch made the introductions and was surprised when the man said that someone was there waiting for them already. He led the team to a large conference room that was equipped with several television screens, white boards, and a large table. Standing by one of the windows was Anna, her loose curls pulled back at the nape of her neck. She turned when she heard the footsteps of the team approaching and faced Hotch head on.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, setting his go-bag on the table. Part of him wasn't surprised; this was Emily's sister after all. But the other part of him was annoyed; the last thing he needed was someone getting in the way of the takedown operation.

"Proving that the governor's jet is faster than yours," she smirked.

"How'd you manage that?" Morgan asked.

"I asked," she said simply. "Do you have anything new?"

Hotch opened his mouth to say no but was interrupted by the chief of police who was pulling a man along behind him.

"Agent Hotchner. I think you're going to want to hear this." The chief shoved the short man into a chair and the team saw for the first time that he had a bandage on his forehead. "This is Jack Fahey. The hospital called when he came in to get bandaged up. We've had a warrant out on him for over a month. Popped up in the hospital alert system when they ran his name. He might have something interesting to tell you."

"Hey, hey, hey, I can speak for myself," Fahey held his cuffed hands up in front of him. "And I ain't sayin' nothin' until I get a deal."

"Deals depend on what you have to offer," Rossi told him, sitting at the table. "Tell us what you know and we'll see what we can do."

Fahey chuckled. "You expect me to believe that?"

"If you don't want it..." Rossi's voice trailed off and he stood.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Hey now, I never said I _didn't_ want it," Fahey panicked. "What do you want to know?"

"How about what happened to your head, for starters?" Rossi smirked. That was an Emily wound if he ever saw one.

"Crazy bitch came after me with a gun!" Fahey exclaimed animatedly. "All I do is walk out of the pub y'know and she _jumps_ me."

"_Who_ jumped you?" Rossi asked.

Fahey looked at him through squinted eyes. "How good is this deal we're talking?" Rossi stared him down and Fahey sighed. "The only name I know her by is Lauren. I know that's not her real name but I dunno what it is. That's all I got man. That's it." Fahey leaned back in his chair expectantly.

"What's this Lauren look like?"

"Tall, thin, bangin' body. Dark hair, pale skin, you want more?" he licked his lips.

Rossi pulled a picture up on his phone. "This her?"

Fahey nodded. "Yeah. Like I said, I walk out of the pub and she jumps me. Drags me into an alley and starts hitting me."

"Why would she do that?"

Fahey looked conflicted. "Hey listen man, if I give you this, I'm gonna need _protection_. You got me?"

"Yeah, I got you," Rossi told him, getting the sense that Fahey had no real loyalties; he would give it all to whoever happened to serve his needs the best.

Fahey looked around and continued talking conspiratorially. "She was looking for her a man named Doyle. Ian Doyle."

"And did you tell her where to find him?"

"No need. Doyle was there." Something must have shown on Rossi's face because Fahey grinned.

"What happened next?"

"Doyle shot her," Fahey said simply. "Twice."

Over Fahey's head, Rossi could see Reid's hand pause mid-geographic profile. Morgan and JJ, who had been sorting cold case files while listening to the conversation stopped cold. Garcia stopped setting up her laptops and looked up in horror. Only Hotch remained stoic but Rossi knew it wasn't for lack of emotional response. Clyde Easter had apparently left out a few details. "She's dead?" Rossi verified.

"Whoa, no, man, I never said that. She was wearing one of those vests, you know? Bullets knocked her down but she wasn't out. She's a tough little chick, y'know?"

Rossi nodded. Fahey's version gelled with Easter's. He turned Fahey over to a uniformed officer who led a protesting Fahey down to a holding cell.

"What are you waiting for?" Anna asked. "You know where she is, Easter and Fahey have both told you. Go get her."

"We have time," Hotch told her. "Our best option is also her worst. We have time to plan because Doyle is going to take _his_ time. He wants to hurt her."

"So we're just going to sit around while she's being tortured? Really?" Anna asked disgustedly. She ran her hands through her hair and chose her next words carefully. "Are you doing this to punish her? Are you even going to try and save her?" she asked quietly.

Morgan spoke up. "This isn't about what Emily did. This is about getting her back without putting ourselves in harm's way."

"She would take a bullet for you. For any of you. In an instant, without question," Anna told him.

"But not for a six year-old child?" Morgan asked.

"What was her choice?" Anna asked exasperatedly. "Tell me, what choice did she have? If she turned Declan over to the CIA or the North Koreans they would have hurt him to get to Doyle. If there was one thing Ian Doyle cared about above all else it was his son. So you're telling me she should have subjected an innocent child to torture when she had the option to end his life quickly and painlessly?"

"She could have hidden him," Reid suggested, his mind clearly working a million miles a minute.

"And how would she have done that? You heard Easter, she had no one she could trust; her colleagues were all in the CIA. She had no friends; she'd been undercover for eight months. That left her completely on her own with absolutely no resources to protect the two of them," Anna protested vehemently. "You know how protective she is," she pushed on, turning to Hotch. "If you're options were to kill your son quickly or subject him to months of inhumane torture, what would you do?"

Hotch glared. "I wouldn't have let the situation get that far in the first place," he told her.

"But it almost did, didn't it? If Foyet had gotten to Jack-"

"That's enough!" Hotch said roughly. "This is an entirely different situation. You need to remember that you're not an FBI agent; you're not any kind of law enforcement and you have no authority here. I can have you arrested for interfering with a police investigation at any point in time. This team will, under Morgan's tactical lead, come up with an extraction operation and we will get Emily out. Until that happens, if you're going to insist on fighting us at every step of the way, you can leave."

Anna glared at him but didn't say anything else.

"Good. Morgan, how long do you need?"

"I looked at the blueprints on the flight. I'm ready when you are."

"Garage. Now," Hotch ordered.

The team filed out of the room toward the garage, checking their weapons along the way. Morgan pecked Anna on the forehead and followed them out. It wasn't until he was on the stairs that he realized she was following behind him.

"What do you think you're doing?" he asked her.

"I'm coming with you," she told him.

"No way. You heard Hotch just now. Absolutely no way," he answered.

"Derek, I can't just sit here and wait for a phone call. I have to be there."

"It's too dangerous."

"I don't care."

"I do care. You're not going."

"Try and stop me."

"I have tactical command of this team. I could stop you if I wanted to. Go back upstairs. I will call you the minute we get her." Morgan turned and continued down the stairs.

"Derek!" Anna called.

He turned impatiently.

"I know you're mad at her. Promise me that you're going to do everything you can to bring her home safe." She searched his face for any hint of doubt when he answered.

"I don't agree with the things she did. But I would never _not_ do my best to bring her home," he promised.

"Good. Then there's no reason why I can't come with you."

"Anna," Morgan sighed, knowing it was pointless. They were wasting time. "Fine, let's go. On one condition," he said as they ran down the stairs. "You stay in the car until we give the all clear."

"Got it," she told him without breaking her stride. He grabbed her shoulder and spun her around.

"I'm serious."

"So am I. Now let's go."


	11. Chapter 11

He was back. Emily could feel him behind her, watching her. That feeling, that sense of impending doom, got to her but she made herself appear unbothered, at least until Doyle approached her. She felt the cool barrel of a gun caress the back of her neck, moving up until it was pressed against the back of her head. Doyle pressed it harder and for the first time Emily was hit with the realization that she was going to die. She'd hoped against hope that somehow her team would find her in time, even though she knew it was selfish and hypocritical to expect that they would come bursting through the door, putting themselves in harm's way. Still, she'd hoped.

"Are you ready to die?" Ian whispered softly, leaning in close.

Emily closed her eyes. "Yes." She was surprised when she felt Doyle yank the gun away from her head and even more taken aback when he knelt at her feet and began to untie her ankles. He uncuffed her hands and re-cuffed them in front of her, pulling her to her feet.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"I told you," Doyle said simply. "I'm going to kill you exactly where you killed him." He shoved her and she, not expecting it, stumbled forward. She regained her balance only to have Doyle shove her again, closer to the far corner of the room. She spun around to face him and saw the gun pointed at her face.

"It won't make you feel better," she told him truthfully. "Killing me won't fix anything."

"Maybe not. But it will satisfy me. And you know, if it's not enough there are a whole slew of people out there that can die after you."

"Leave them out of this," Emily ordered.

"What? Did you think that after you were dead they would be safe?" Doyle mocked.

"What's the point in killing them if I'm not around to know about it?"

"You'll die knowing they're still not safe. You won't get the self-sacrificing death I know you wanted. That's why you came after me. Too bad Emily, the only way to stop me is to kill me yourself."

"That can be arranged," she said as she lunged toward Doyle. She slammed her shoulder into his gut and shoved him backwards. He was surprised but didn't lose the grip on his gun. He grabbed her arms and threw her aside but she ended up behind him. Emily wrapped her arms around Doyle's neck and squeezed, even as he clawed at her hands with his own.

She thought she was doing fine, considering Doyle had at least a hundred pounds on her, but he got a sudden burst of strength. He bent forward and flipped her off of him; she landed hard on her back and felt the wind rush out of her. She rolled over before Doyle could make another move but his foot caught her in the stomach and propelled her a few feet. She didn't have time to get her bearings before Doyle wrapped his hand in her hair and pulled her to her feet.  
"You've lost your touch," he hissed in her ear before slamming her into the wall. She tried to catch her breath but moaned instead when Doyle spun her around so she was facing him. She would have fallen to the floor if not for the fact that Doyle had his hand wrapped around her throat, holding her up. Emily spluttered and tried to pull his hand away but it wouldn't budge. Through blurred vision she could see him grin menacingly before tucking his gun into the waistband of his pants. "I won't need this," he told her.

She wanted to answer, to say something, anything to give her some time to get out of this. Or to get to his gun; she could see it taunting her from where he'd stashed it. She reached her hands out but it was too far away to grab. In a fit of desperation she kicked out her feet and one of them nailed Doyle in the knee. It was enough to make him let go of her neck and she gasped for air as she fell to the ground with Ian right next to her. She forced herself to reach over and snatch the gun before rolling away from him. He was right behind her and she'd just made it to a kneeling position when he tackled her, sending the weapon flying out of her hand. She'd gotten off a shot though, and saw blood pumping from Doyle's arm. She took his moment of distraction to scramble toward the gun but just as she reached out her hands, Doyle's foot came stomping down on one of her wrists. She felt a snap and a rush of pain as her fingers still reached futilely for the gun that was only inches out of her grasp.

"Did you really think you were going to get out of this?" he snarled.

Emily searched her mind for the right answer but was saved the trouble when she heard gunshots coming from down the hall. Doyle's head whirled around, taking the weight off her arm and she scrambled to her feet. She shoved him away from her and he fell; she placed a knee on each side of him and ran her cuffed fists into his face repeatedly.

"Emily!" she heard a voice shout from far away; too far away. Was that Morgan? "Emily, are you here?" The gunfire had stopped and Emily felt a surge of relief; they'd won. Doyle's men were clearly neutralized and her team was here for her. Everything else could be dealt with later.

She looked down at Doyle, who appeared to be barely conscious, with contempt and whispered "You lose." She started to stand when she felt the strangest sensation in her abdomen, like a bullet wound only much larger. She looked down out of curiosity and saw a thick piece of wood, like a table leg, sticking out of her stomach. Thankfully, her body seemed to bypass the pain stage as she dropped to her knees. She noted the woodpile, apparently made up of splintered furniture, which she hadn't seen before. Her hands gripped the stake and she stared up at Doyle, who was standing now. She fell onto her side and Doyle backed away from her.

"No luv, _you _lose," he called softly before breaking into a run and leaving her alone to die.

* * *

The five agents and Anna had all piled into one SUV with Morgan at the wheel. The address they had was only a twenty minute drive but it felt like it took much longer. Morgan explained his plan for tactical entry as they drove.

"There's one main entrance in the front, with three loading areas in the back. SWAT is supposed to meet us there but-" he broke off as an update came through his earpiece. "Damn it!" he yelled, slamming the steering wheel with his hand. "SWAT's been delayed, we're on our own for at least another two hours."

"We don't have that kind of time," Hotch told him.

"I know. Plan's changed. We're not splitting up; we don't know how many guys Doyle has in there. We'll all go in through the front, standard formation. Hotch and I will go first, JJ, Reid, and Rossi behind us. Anna, you stay in the car until we give the all-clear," he tilted his head back to look at her. She nodded once.

"Garcia's blueprints showed that there's a wide hallway leading to several open areas that used to be work areas. When we get to the end of the hallway, I'll take the one on the far left, Hotch and JJ the one in the middle, and Rossi and Reid the one on the right. We'll clear them and re-group," he instructed.

"You realize that Doyle is going to have this place guarded like its Alcatraz, right?" Anna pointed out from her spot in the backseat next to Reid.

"Would you rather us sit around for two hours and wait for SWAT?" Morgan asked icily.

"I didn't say that. I was just making sure you knew."

The rest of the ride was finished in silence and as they approached the warehouse Morgan dimmed the headlights and pulled the SUV to the curb. The warehouse was dark but Morgan could see the shadowy outlines of guys patrolling the perimeter.

"We're going in soft," he told the rest of the team. "Stealth and surprise are our only advantages right now."

Everyone nodded their assent and strapped on their vests. Weapons were unholstered and checked. At Morgan's request, silencers were screwed into place. "Stay in the car," Morgan reminded Anna as he turned to lead the way into the warehouse. She reached out the window and grabbed his arm. "Bring her back."

Morgan nodded once and crouched down, moving silently toward the building with the rest of the team behind him. He took out one of the sentries as Reid took out the other. Single shots, emitting no more sound than a soft puff of air. Rossi slid open the front door and the team walked inside. Hotch dropped a patrolman standing just inside the door but the guy got a warning shot off. The hall was swarmed by armed men and the team had absolutely no cover.

"Move back!" Morgan shouted, directing them outside. He and Reid took cover on one side of the doorway with Hotch, Rossi, and JJ taking cover on the other. Bullets came whizzing past them as the team intermittently took what shots they could. Slowly, too slowly, they made progress. There was a break in the shooting when only heavy footfalls were heard and Morgan ducked his head inside. The hallway was clear, so he motioned for the team to follow him inside. They heard the sound of a heavy metal door sliding open and Morgan knew it had to be one of the loading bays. They split up to cover their assigned areas and Morgan raced toward his. He couldn't help but call Emily's name, hoping that she'd answer and lead him to her. He crept closer to the room, breaking into a run when he spotted Emily on the ground with what looked like a piece of wood sticking out of her abdomen. He cleared the room as he rushed to her side.

Her eyes fluttered open when he called her name. He holstered his gun and moved as if he was going to press his hands to the wound but he didn't know where to start. Blood was pumping too fast for him to stop it.

"I got her!" he shouted through the earpiece and heard the all-clears echo through his own speaker. "I need a medic!" he yelled again, knowing that the ambulance had only been a few minutes behind them.

"Emily, stay with me, come on, stay with me," he settled for grasping her hands. "Squeeze my hands Emily, come on." He was relieved when he felt a slight pressure on his hands. "Good girl, there you go." He heard the sound of someone running and looked up to see Anna streaking down the hall, having heard the all-clear over the handset she was holding. She fell to her knees and slid so she was next to Emily. She pulled Emily's hair back from her face as Emily struggled to focus her eyes. The team surrounded them, Rossi urgently repeating into his handset that they needed a medic.

"Emily I thought you were done with the whole vampire stage of your life," Anna joked weakly.

A ghost of a smile graced Emily's face before her eyes closed again. Anna cradled Emily's head in her hands. "Come on Feathers, open your eyes, stay with us. Stay with _me_," she begged.

"Let me go," Emily whispered, her eyes sliding closed again.

"No way," Anna told her resolutely. "No way, you're staying right here. We're in the middle of a game of Words with Friends and I'm finally winning. You can't cop out now."

Emily smiled again but her breathing hitched and then stopped completely. A prolonged sigh escaped her lips as her eyes closed slowly.

"No, no, no, no, no!" Morgan said loudly, starting CPR. "Come on Emily!" he shouted. He breathed a puff of air into her mouth and felt for a pulse; there wasn't one. "Where the hell is my medic?" he yelled.

Almost on cue he heard the telltale sounds of a stretcher being wheeled down the hall. "Over here!" Hotch called, stepping away from Emily's unmoving body. Reid pulled Morgan back with some difficulty while JJ pried Anna's hands away and wrapped her arms around her. The medics uttered a bunch of garbled jargon that no one but them understood. One of them took over where Morgan had left off while the other strapped an oxygen mask to Emily's face. They lifted her limp form onto the stretcher and one of the medics jumped up there and straddled her in order to continue CPR while the other raced the stretcher down the hall. The team followed at a run, splitting up when Anna climbed into the ambulance after Emily.

Doyle watched all of this from the meager distance of the rooftop of the adjacent building. He held his hand over the wound on his injured arm as he watched them scramble on the ground like rats. The medics loaded Emily into the ambulance and he watched her sister climb in after her. He'd keep an eye out for a day or so before leaving town but he was sure there was no way Emily Prentiss could have survived that.


	12. Chapter 12

**So I know I just posted a new chapter not too long ago, but it was short and I had this one finished already so I thought I would go ahead and update. You could always return the favor with an extra review or two : )**

* * *

Doctors had wheeled Emily straight from the ambulance bay into the operating room. In the ambulance, the medic in the back had finally been able to get her heart beating again. They didn't have any bolt cutters in the back of the ambulance so as the paramedic worked on Emily Anna took a pin from her own hair and picked the locks; another trick Emily had taught her.

Once they took Emily away at the hospital, Anna was directed to a waiting room where she paced until the team arrived. They came in as one, a blur of bodies flashing credentials at the nurse's station and demanding information. They weren't given any news that Anna didn't have; Emily was in surgery and that was all they knew at this time.

"Are you okay?" Morgan asked when he approached her.

"Yeah, fine," she said quietly. "All of you?"

"Everyone's fine," Morgan reported. Anna looked over his shoulder at the team, all of whom were settling in for what was sure to be a long wait.

"You didn't get him, did you?" Anna verified.

Morgan exhaled sharply. "No. The son of a bitch got away. But we will get him Anna, I promise you that."

"I know you will," she told him honestly.

"We've got agents on their way that will stay posted here while Emily recovers," Hotch said, approaching the pair. Not that any of them were planning on leaving any time soon.

"When she gets out of surgery Doyle's going to need someone to guard _him_," Anna told him. "Emily is going to be pissed." She hugged herself and looked around. "She hates hospitals." She sighed. "And so do I."

Morgan's strong arms enveloped her and he pulled her closer to him. She let him steer her into a chair and felt a bit of relief, as always, when she took her weight off her bad leg. Morgan sat on one side of her, Hotch on the other. JJ and Reid sat across from them while Rossi remained standing, which ended up being a good thing because Garcia came streaking into the waiting room about a half hour later, soaking wet from the apparent downpour that was going on outside. She slid on her heels and went flying into Rossi's arms.

"Oh my God sir, I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed, regaining her balance. "How's Emily? How are you guys?" she caught sight of the blood on Anna and Morgan's hands and clothes. "Are you okay? What happened?" she cried, racing into Morgan's arms.

"Take a breath mama. We're okay," he soothed, kissing her forehead lightly.

"Where's Emily?"

"She's in surgery," Anna answered.

"And Doyle?" Garcia asked breathlessly.

Morgan shook his head.

"Oh you'll get him. Because I'm going to launch an unholy attack on all his finances. He will find his accounts drained and his emails spammed with viruses that will eat his records from the inside out. I will hack his webcams and play Justin Bieber on repeat at full volume until he begs for mercy. And in the midst of all that, I will track him down. And then you will go after him and you will just beat the-" she made a violent motion with her hands and elicited a small chuckle from Anna.

"There's no one quite like you, Penelope," she said quietly.

"Oh sweetie," Garcia said, wrapping Anna in a hug of her own. "And there's no one like Emily either. If anyone can pull through something like this, it's her." She noticed the look that Hotch and Morgan shared. "What happened, exactly?" she asked, realizing for the first time that things might be worse than she thought.

"She took a pretty bad beating, Baby Girl," Morgan said after a long pause.

"What aren't you telling me?" she probed.

"Doyle stabbed her." Anna told her finally. "With a table leg."

Garcia gasped. "Like, the actual leg of a table? That it stands on?"

Anna nodded.

"But she's not..." Garcia's voice trailed off.

"No, she's alive," Anna reassured her. "She's in surgery."

"Actually, she's out of surgery," a woman's voice said from the doorway. Heads whipped around to face the woman, a blonde that looked to be in her forties. "You _are _here for Emily Prentiss?" she verified. Heads nodded and Anna stepped forward.

"How is she?" she asked hesitantly.

The doctor didn't offer any type of reassuring response. "Emily experienced what we call a sharp force trauma to the abdomen – she was stabbed. There was massive internal bleeding and damage to her stomach, liver, and spleen. One of her kidneys needed to be removed completely."

Anna nodded calmly. "Bottom line? I mean, she can live without a kidney, right?"

"She could," the doctor acknowledged.

"But..." Anna prompted knowingly.

The doctor sighed. "Emily isn't breathing on her own right now, and she's in a coma. The good news is that there is still evidence of brain activity, which I was concerned about given the length of time she was without oxygen. We've intubated her, which means that right now a machine is doing her breathing for her."

"Meaning what?" Anna asked tightly. "What are her chances?"

"I don't want to give you any false hope. Given the damage her body has suffered, there's a good chance that Emily might not ever regain the ability to breathe on her own. She may never wake up from this," the doctor finished.

"When will we know?" Anna inquired softly.

"It will be a good sign if she makes it through the next forty-eight hours," the doctor told her.

"Can we see her?" Anna requested.

"One at a time," the doctor granted. "I'll take you."

Anna pulled away from Morgan and followed the doctor down a long hallway. Emily was in the ICU, so she had a private room. Anna thanked the doctor when they reached their destination and the doctor offered a parting smile.

Anna stood in the doorway of Emily's room, taken aback by how small she looked huddled under the covers and hooked up to the various machines that were striving to keep her alive. Anna pulled a chair to the side of the bed and sat down, holding one of Emily's freshly washed hands in her own still-bloodstained one.

"Hey Feathers," she whispered, taking a breath and looking at the ceiling to keep herself from losing it completely. She smoothed a piece of Emily's hair away from her face, careful not to disturb any of the tubes that seemed to be everywhere.

"Talk about role reversal. I keep waiting for you to wake up and tell me what to do." She took a breath. "They didn't get him, you know. Doyle. But Morgan promised that they would and he hasn't let me down yet. And Hotch-you should see him Emily. I can't say he's a mess, because he's not. But he's so...intense. Does he always get like that when he's worried? I mean, I know you've told me that before but I guess I've never really seen it in action. Sorry, I'm rambling."

"I think that's good for her," she heard Hotch say from the doorway.

"You know, for an FBI agent, you don't follow the rules very well," Anna said without taking her eyes off Emily's face. Hotch sat on Emily's other side.

"I'm so intensely quiet that they won't even know I'm here," he said softly.

"Sorry. I didn't mean that in a bad way."

"I know." He looked at Emily with such concern that it almost broke Anna's heart. She kept waiting for him to reach out and hold Emily's hand or say something to her but he just sat there, stony-faced, and Anna realized with a start what was going on.

"You're angry at her," she tried to keep the accusatory note out of her voice.

For what felt like the first time that night, Hotch looked her right in the eye. "I am. But right now, I want her to get well."

"So you can yell at her some more? So you all can tell her how much she disgusts you?" Anna asked angrily. Hotch didn't respond. "Why did you even bother saving her if you didn't plan on forgiving her?"

"We care about her; she's a member of our team."

"_Was_. You fired her, remember?"

"All the same. Just because I don't agree with some of the decisions she made doesn't mean that I can just write her off," he explained quietly, as though he was working it out in his head as he spoke.

"I know you're hurting. I know you're all hurting and you all feel betrayed, but thank you." She squeezed Emily's hand. "For putting aside your anger and resentment long enough to risk your life to save hers."

Just then, Emily's monitors started beeping wildly and Anna and Hotch jumped back from the bed as nurses and doctors came streaming through the door pushing carts and carrying needles of various sizes. One of the doctors opened Emily's hospital gown and Anna noticed the bandage on her chest she hadn't seen before and briefly wondered what it was hiding before she noted the deep purple color of the parts of Emily's abdomen that weren't bandaged.

"She's bleeding internally!" one of the doctors yelled. "Prep the OR!"

"You two are going to need to wait outside," one of the nurses pushed gently. "We'll let you know when we know something."

That was when Emily flatlined. Anna whipped her head around to stare and the offensive machine that showed that her sister, her Emily, had no heartbeat.

"Let's go!" another doctor yelled, shoving Anna aside to make a path to the door. Hotch and Anna followed them a short way down the hall but he grabbed her arm and pulled her to a stop after a few feet.

"Come back to the waiting room," he told her. She nodded her assent but paused when they passed a bathroom.

"I'm going to wash up," she said, indicating her dark red hands. He nodded.

"When you're ready."

She nodded and pushed the bathroom door open. Thankfully, it was empty. She stood at the sink and scrubbed her hands furiously until every last trace of Emily's blood was gone. By the time she was finished her hands were raw and tingling. She leaned on the sink and exhaled a slow, deep breath. She lifted her face to the mirror and studied herself, imagining that she was looking at Emily and drawing comfort from that. With a groan, she pushed herself up and walked back to the waiting room where she found the team sitting in tense silence.

Morgan looked up at her and shook his head. No news. He patted the seat next to him and she plopped into the chair, not realizing how exhausted she was until right now. She balanced her elbows on her knees and put her face in her hands. She felt Morgan's strong hand massaging her neck and she leaned into him.

They sat like that for well over two hours, only moving when JJ and Hotch went for coffee and check-ins with the doctors respectively. Finally, Reid spotted the doctor walking slowly down the hall, wiping her face with a towel. He stood, prompting movement from everyone else, who followed suit immediately. The doctor's eyes flickered between them before coming to rest on Anna.

"I'm very sorry," she said. "She didn't make it off the table. We did everything we could."

Anna nodded. "I'm sure you did," she said calmly. "Thank you." The doctor nodded and left them alone.

The team was breaking down, something Anna would have seen if she hadn't pulled away from Morgan and turned to face the window. Tears were streaming down Garica's cheeks as Morgan comforted her while holding back angry tears of his own. Rossi ran his hand over his brow and kept his face hidden. Reid, who'd been pacing, abruptly switched directions and headed for the operating room but found his path blocked by a teary JJ.

"Spence..." she soothed.

"I didn't even get to say goodbye," he realized sadly. He let JJ wrap her arms around him and he laid his head on her shoulder. JJ met Hotch's stoic eye and he shook his head.

They stayed like that for a minute or so, each of them lost in their own grief before Anna broke the silence.

"Well, it's been a really long night. Thank you all for everything you've done for Emily and me," she said formally. "I'll pass along the details for the arrangements." She offered up a perfunctory smile and turned to walk out but was stopped by Morgan.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm going to get a hotel. I'll have Emily's body transported back to Quantico tomorrow."

"The FBI will take care of all that," JJ told her. "As well as the arrangements."

"That would be lovely. I'm sure Emily would appreciate it," Anna thanked her. "In that case, I guess there's no reason not to head straight back to Virginia."

"Anna-" Morgan started.

"I'm fine. I'm going to call a cab and go to the airport. There's just a lot to do, really. I'll pack up and clean out her place so I can get it on the market. And I need to grab Sergio, he's probably going crazy." Her voice was too normal, too controlled, and they all knew it.

"You don't have to do this alone," Hotch said softly.

She gave him a pitying smile. "I'm fine, really. I'm just going to head out, but feel free to call if you need anything," she started to walk away.

"At least let me drive you to the airport," Morgan requested, but she kept walking so he raised his voice. "Anna!" She finally stopped and turned to face him. "Don't do this," he begged her. "Don't shut yourself off from everyone else. Let us help you."

"Derek, I'm _fine_. I just want to be alone for a few hours and then I'll be good to go. Okay?" she pecked him on the cheek and continued down the hall, leaving Morgan shaking his head.

"She's just like Emily," he said to himself.

"Neither of them will let anyone help," Garcia said. "And look where that got Emily." She broke down into a fresh batch of tears and leaned against Morgan again. JJ and Hotch stepped aside to talk about the funeral arrangements, deciding on the standard FBI service for when an agent was killed in the line of duty, believing that it would fit Emily's personality and dedication to her job best. JJ made a call to a nearby hotel so the team had a place to stay for the night; Emily's body wouldn't be ready to transport until tomorrow. Wearily, they filed out in pairs: JJ and Hotch in front, talking quietly with Morgan and Garcia behind them, arms wrapped around each other as they walked. Reid and Rossi followed behind.

"You okay kid?" Rossi asked.

Reid shook his head. "I didn't get to say goodbye," he repeated.

Rossi clapped a hand on his shoulder. "I know," he squeezed Reid's shoulder gently. "I know."

When they got to the hospital exit they could see that it was pouring outside, but no one made a race for the SUV, instead choosing to walk at a normal pace, not minding the wetness. Rossi was about to climb into the front seat when a flash of color caught his eye. He told Hotch to go ahead and go and that he would call a cab for himself.

Still walking through the rain, he made his way to where he'd seen the figure, at the far end of the parking lot. That's where he found her, huddled against the wall of the hospital building, sitting with her back against it and her knees drawn up to her chest. Rossi couldn't differentiate between her tears and the raindrops but he could hear her sobs even over the rolling thunder. Forgoing all pretense of keeping his jeans in pristine condition, he sat on the ground next to Anna as she cried. Without warning, she leaned her head against his shoulder and he wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly and passing on any comfort he possibly could, thankful that the rain meant his own tears wouldn't be noticed.


	13. Chapter 13

The funeral was nice. It was solemn. That was really all anyone remembered later. There wasn't a big crowd: Anna, the team, a few other agents, and the minister. Ambassador Prentiss had been unable to make it owing to another commitment that clearly was more important than her own daughter's funeral. Not that Anna was surprised; the Ambassador had never been much for family events. Anna thought Emily would have liked it this way, surrounded by people she truly liked instead of those she merely had to tolerate.

Morgan had picked her up that morning; nearly a week after Emily had been killed. They hadn't spoken to each other since she'd left the hospital in Boston. She'd been staying in the guest room at Emily's, something she hadn't been able to talk herself out of, since it was so practical. She'd spent the past week packing feverishly, sorting Emily's things into piles she wanted to keep and those she was planning on donating. Emily was a neat person by nature, so it wasn't like there was much clutter to sort through. After a week, Anna was nearly finished.

She'd also been terribly productive where Second Chance was concerned. She'd decided to keep the same plot of land instead of selling it and buying a different one. Donations had poured in, both from the community and some prominent names, all for the sake of getting her shelter back up and running. In the last week, she'd come up with a new floor plan, a true vision of what she wanted the place to be and how she wanted it to run. She'd approved the final design yesterday and construction was starting today. She had the fleeting thought in the shower that the timing was appropriate; she was putting Emily to rest on the same day that Second Chance was being re-born.

She dressed quickly, having realized that as long as she kept herself busy and moving, she didn't have any trouble functioning. It was when she laid down at night, or sat down to eat, any time she was sitting still was when her mind was flooded with thoughts she didn't want. Memories, mostly, that wouldn't let her forget and move on. Logically, she knew this was normal and that the memories should be treasured, lest they begin to fade years down the road. But as many times as she'd counseled people, even Emily, through loss, she'd never quite been able to handle it perfectly herself, which is why when Morgan picked her up that morning she found it strange that she had absolutely nothing to say.

"How are you?" he prompted after she'd buckled herself in. He pulled away from the curb carefully before turning to look at her.

"I'm fine," she smiled, and he was struck by how much she and Emily looked alike. He'd always known that, but now for some reason it seemed more powerful, like she was actually channeling Emily or something. "How are you?"

"Probably as fine as you are," he told her sternly. "You can talk to me, you know."

"I know I can. I'm just not there yet," she said honestly. "I feel like I need to work things out in my own head before I can put them into words." They lapsed into a silence that she broke a few minutes later.

"This is so surreal, Derek," she muttered, running a hand through her hair; having left it loose to flow past her shoulders. "After everything we've been through, I never thought I would be driving to my sister's funeral. When I was in the hospital after my dad - you know - I had this fleeting image of Emily driving to _my_ funeral. Of her making the arrangements and of it being perfect. It's morbid I know, but that's always how I thought things would happen. Either that, or I had this dream once where we had our funerals at the same time. Side by side caskets, just the two of us. The minister was cracking jokes and suddenly Emily and I sat up and scared the hell out of everyone," she gave a humorless laugh. "Oh my God, what is wrong with me?"

"You're grieving," Morgan said simply.

"Derek, I counsel people for a living. How can I do that when I can't even handle my own problems?"

"You're handling them just fine," he reassured her. "It's going to take time to get back to feeling normal."

"I _know_. I know that, I do. Sorry, I'm being whiny. How are you handling things?" she deflected.

"I've been working on one of my houses. The sledgehammer has become unnecessary." He held up the fist he'd been resting on his lap and she realized that it was swollen and bruised.

"You realize that's probably broken, right?" she couldn't help but laugh and the sound felt good. "We're a mess."

Morgan flashed her a grin that expressed his agreement as he pulled into a parking spot at the church. "Are you ready for this?" he asked.

"No." But she got out of the car nonetheless, smoothing the simple black dress she'd chosen to wear. It was Emily's actually, but Anna knew she wouldn't have minded. They used to share clothes all the time. Morgan reached for her hand with his good one and she took it; her first human contact in a week, since that night when Rossi had comforted her in the pouring rain. She saw him, dressed in a tailored suit and standing with the rest of the team. She was enveloped in a strong hug by Garcia when she approached, receiving hand squeezes and shoulder pats from everyone else. As a group, they walked into the church where the service would take place.

Combined, they still only took up one pew, sitting quietly as the minister gave a sermon. Anna had declined the option of giving a eulogy for two reasons. First, Emily would have hated it. Second, everyone in attendance already knew everything she could possibly say about her. That decision had helped keep the ceremony brief and in what seemed like no time at all Anna found herself walking with Garcia behind Emily's casket, which was carried by Hotch, Rossi, Morgan, Reid, JJ, and Anderson, who Emily had always loved to jokingly harass.

One by one, they placed white roses on the mahogany box that held Emily's body. As Anna placed hers, she closed her eyes and let the memories wash over her in a flash. Gymnastics, Emily moving to Europe with their mother, staying up late giggling and eating popcorn, Emily at her side in the hospital, everything just came at once. She felt like she could have stayed that way forever, always content to think about Emily but she knew she had to make herself move on, one step at a time. So she opened her eyes, dropped the flower, and slowly walked away.

* * *

Section Chief Strauss had ever so graciously offered the use of the BAU conference room for the reception. Hotch hadn't received the idea well but Anna thought it was perfect and she told him so; Emily's dedication to her job in life would be carried on through her death. And it would give her a chance to clean out Emily's desk. She didn't know why, but she felt like it would be less painful to do all of that now, the cleaning, the legal arrangements, the notifications, instead of spreading it out over the course of a few weeks. Hotch had been skeptical but in the end had acquiesced, which is why after the funeral they found themselves congregated around the round table in the conference room, minus Anderson, who'd offered to pack Emily's desk.

Conversation had flowed smoothly for the first half hour while people were mostly eating and drinking but had now lagged. Talk turned to Second Chance, a nice, safe, neutral topic. Well, sort of neutral, given that Doyle had been involved in destroying it.

"When do you think you'll be back up and running?" JJ asked.

"I'm not sure. The contractor said he anticipates a few months to rebuild completely."

"That's it?" Morgan asked skeptically. "A place that big is going to take longer than that to rebuild."

"Well, they're not using their fists as sledgehammers now are they?" Anna joked.

"You know, the current record for someone breaking something using only their fists actually involves a monk living in Tibet. He can slam his fist through four feet of concrete without any adverse consequences. Scientists have been studying him for a few years and they now believe that there may some sort of mind control biorhythm feedback at play," Reid offered, nodding enthusiastically.

"So what are you going to do between now and then?" JJ asked, ignoring Reid entirely.

"I'm thinking of hanging around here for a while; there's no need for me to be at the construction site physically. That way I can finish packing Emily's place and get it back on the market."

"You know you don't have to stay there, right?" Morgan asked, concerned. "If it's too hard."

Anna shook her head slowly. "You know, I thought it would be harder than it is. But being there...I don't know. Makes me feel closer to her, I guess." She ran a hand through her hair. "I just keep waiting for her to come through the door," she said softly.

Hotch nodded his understanding but didn't say anything; he too wished Emily would come walking through the doors of the BAU, plop down at her desk, glance up at his office, and start her paperwork just like she always did. Losing her was harder than he thought it would be, especially given that they technically weren't in a relationship anymore. He hadn't been able to tell Jack the truth, he couldn't bring himself to do it, so he'd simply told him that Emily was on vacation. Jack, to his surprise, had been inquisitive as to when she would return, insisting that Emily had promised to do some sort of craft with him. He asked so many questions that Hotch began to suspect that he hadn't realized how much Emily meant to him either, a fact that was magnified now that she wasn't here. Silently, he vowed that he would get Doyle, that he would bring him down so that Emily could be at peace. He looked over at Rossi, who was staring at him intently, as if trying to read his mind. Hotch took a bite of his cupcake, courtesy of Garcia, to avoid any impending conversation.

Rossi saw Hotch staring off into space and it didn't take a profiler to figure out what he was thinking about. Or rather, who. Frankly, Rossi was worried about him. Well, a little worried. He knew Hotch could take care of himself, but Emily's death, on top of Haley's, was bound to have a significant impact. Rossi had offered to help Hotch explain things to Jack but Hotch had demurred, which Rossi expected. That was fine, it didn't bother him. What bothered him was that, once again, Hotch seemed to be shutting himself off from the team, the way he had after Foyet. The irony, Rossi knew, was that last time Emily had been the one to bring him back, to get him out of the dark place he was in. This time she wasn't around to do that and Rossi felt the need to pick up where she'd left off. The difficulty was this: excellent listener though he was, Emily was better at it. She'd mastered the perfect balance of sympathy, humor, and advice that had always left those around her feeling better. He'd seen it with victims, he'd seen it with Unsubs, and he'd seen it repeatedly on the team. He couldn't help but feel that an integral part of them was missing. He looked over at Reid, who busy tearing his cupcake into tiny pieces and molding them together again. Reid was the one he worried about the most, however unfounded that was. Reid was the most emotionally fragile, compared to Morgan being the most emotionally volatile. Reid tended to internalize his emotions, which worried Rossi. Reid snapped his head up to meet Rossi's gaze suddenly and offered what looked to be a startled smile before resuming his cupcake sculpture masterpiece.

He didn't know what it was, he didn't even know what he wanted it to be. All he knew was that the consistency of the moist cupcake was perfect for sculpting. And it kept his hands busy, which was important because they hadn't stopped shaking since that night at the warehouse. He would have been worried that it was psychological if not for the fact that he hadn't slept more than an hour at a time for the last week or so. He'd been mainlining caffeine and it was clearly starting to take effect. He knew Rossi was staring at him, concerned. Reid appreciated the thought, he really did, but he was sick of everyone treating him like he was the one that was going to fall apart. He _wasn't_ going to fall apart. Yes, he was conflicted. His anger at Emily and the feelings of betrayal he harbored were fighting constantly with his sadness at her death. Then of course there was the shame he felt for being so angry with a dead person; it wasn't like they could go back and make amends. Late last night he'd sat up in bed, covered in a cold sheen of sweat, wishing for nothing more than a vial of Dilaudid. He'd reached for his phone to call the same person he always did when he felt this way and had dialed the number before remembering that she wouldn't answer. She couldn't answer, and she never would answer again. That thought had propelled his mind into overdrive and he busied himself with meaningless tasks that kept his brain busy; like memorizing pi up to the five hundredth digit and doing crossword puzzle after crossword puzzle. It hadn't helped and for the umpteenth time he cursed the fact that his brain was the way it was; able to think about multiple things at once so that even while he was coming up with the seven letter word for ocean creature he was still seeing Emily's face in the back of his mind, smiling at him, telling him that they only hovered because they cared and that if he wanted them to stop, all he needed to do was say something, because that enough would prove his strength. He smashed the cupcake with his fist and happened to catch JJ's eye in his peripheral vision. She gave him a smile and he found himself wishing again that he wasn't always the one who needed comfort. For once, he wanted to be the one who could give it.

JJ was worried about Spence. He'd practically fallen apart in the hospital, grasping her shoulders for dear life as he struggled to process what had happened. She felt responsible for him, the way a sister might care for her little brother. Ever since what had happened with Henkel, she still found herself trying to shield Reid from bad things, even though rationally she knew he was more than capable of handling the things that came his way. She sighed quietly, gathering her hair in her hands and letting it slip through her fingers until it was resting on her shoulders again. The gesture reminded her of Emily, who always joked with her about showing off her long blonde locks. Speaking of blonde...she switched her gaze to Garcia who was uncharacteristically quiet. She knew that Garcia wasn't as used to death as the rest of them were, especially the death of someone they were close to. But that wasn't true, was it? JJ realized that Garcia _had_ experienced loss; her mother and stepfather had been killed in an accident when she was only sixteen. Garcia was like Reid in that she was stronger than they gave her credit for but still, JJ wondered if they would ever be able to have a whispered raunchy conversation on the back of the jet without their main instigator.

She'd stopped at two cupcakes. Too much frosting always made her sick and that was the last thing she needed right now. The cupcakes were chocolate with bright purple frosting, Emily's favorite. She hadn't been sure about having cupcakes at a funeral but then realized it would be perfect for Emily, who'd always eschewed all pretense of propriety when it came to things like this. She knew Emily would have wanted them to celebrate her life instead of mourning her death, which sounded cliché but was actually true. Still, tears had been shed. Numerous tears, which was also annoying because no one else was crying, not even Emily's own sister. Garcia knew emotions were a good thing but she still wondered why she often seemed like the only one that felt them. Or at least, the only one that showed she felt them. She looked at Morgan, who would sooner spontaneously combust than show his sadness. Anger yes, sadness no.

Damn right he was angry. He'd been having this debate in his head for the last few minutes. Angry or sad? How was he supposed to feel? Angry at the betrayal or sad at the loss? Both, he finally decided. Sad at the loss of his partner and one of his best friends but angry at her too, for going off on her own, for keeping secrets, for getting into bed with Doyle in the first place, literally.

"I wish she'd told us what was going on," he heard himself say. He'd meant to merely think it, but apparently his brain had other ideas. The others looked at him expectantly and his next words were out of his mouth before he had a chance to think about how they would sound. "If she'd told us everything at the beginning, none of this would have happened." Silence met him from all sides of the table but no one disagreed. Almost no one, that is.

"You don't know that for sure. She still would have gone off by herself," Anna said knowingly.

Morgan shook his head. "We wouldn't have let it get to that. We wouldn't have let it get that messed up," he argued adamantly.

"Derek, it was a messed up situation to begin with." Anna soothed.

"Damn right it was! It's like honesty went out the window with her and she just left out the parts of her past she didn't want us to know."

"Like you did in Chicago?" Anna accused, her eyes flashing. "You were going to let yourself go to prison just to avoid admitting what happened to you."

Morgan glared at her incredulously. "That is completely different."

"No, it's not. Both of you kept information about your past hidden. Both of you had information that was relevant to an ongoing case that neither of you chose to share. Both of you were at least ready to sacrifice yourselves to protect that privacy. How is that different?" she was fighting to keep her voice steady.

"It's just different," Morgan insisted.

"How?" Anna asked. "How is Emily sacrificing her life for you any different than you almost sacrificing yours?"

"Because I never chose to let Carl Buford do that to me!" Morgan finally yelled. "Emily knew who she was getting into bed with, she _chose _that. She didn't have to do it, but she did. Was it noble that she gave her life trying to protect us? Alright, yeah, I'll give you that. But that doesn't change the fact that if she hadn't toyed with Doyle in the first place, we wouldn't have ever been in danger and she would still be here."

"So you're saying she deserved what she got? That she brought this on herself?"

Morgan took a breath, noting the concerned stares from those around him. "All I'm saying is that the choices _she_ made got us and her to where we are right now."

Anna nodded and looked at the table. "Does anyone disagree?" she was met with silence, whether because they honestly felt that way or because they didn't know what else to say she didn't know. She placed her palms flat on the table and stood. "Well. This has been informative," she said evenly. "I'm very sorry for your loss." She turned and began to walk out of the room, hearing the sounds of chairs being pushed back from the table. She kept walking, holding her head high, as she descended the stairs leading to the bullpen. She reached Emily's desk, where Anderson had neatly packed everything up. When she turned around Morgan was standing less than three feet from her; the rest of the team had stopped at the top of the stairs.

"Don't do this alone," Morgan told her.

"It doesn't seem like I have a choice," she told him. "I will not sit there and let you insult Emily, not when she isn't here to defend herself."

"Anna, I wasn't insulting her."

"What would you call it then?"

"I was _talking_. Trying to make sense of everything that happened. Like it or not, it was Emily's decisions that got us here."

"I'm not denying that."

"Then what's the problem?"

"Forget it." She turned to leave and felt Morgan's hand encircle her bicep.

"Not like this. Don't go like this." She wrenched her arm from his grasp and whirled around angrily. He held his hands up defensively and took a step back. "You need to calm down."

"Calm down?" she hissed. "Sorry for being a little upset about the fact that my sister is _dead_. Sorry that I don't appreciate all of you, who claim to love her as much as I do, and who she died protecting, _blaming_ her for what happened."

"Why can't you see that we're not attacking her? We loved Emily and it hurts like hell that she's gone. But are we mad? Yeah, we're mad. She lied to us for _years_. We're just supposed to forget that? Push it aside like trust doesn't matter?"

"Trust does matter," she said softly. "I trusted, and Emily trusted, that you would have her back no matter what. Telling you was the second hardest thing she's ever done in her life, the first being her assignment with Doyle itself. She knew it would take time for you to get past it but now that she's gone, I thought you would have realized that what she did doesn't change who she was."

Morgan shook his head in disbelief. "Did she teach you to defend her no matter what, ignoring all the evidence another person may put in front of you?"

Before she had time to think about it, she'd closed the distance between them and connected her fist solidly to Morgan's face. His head snapped to the side and blood poured out of his nose.

"No, but she did teach me how to hit," she hissed in his ear.

She snatched the box of Emily's things off her desk and walked toward the door. With both hands occupied by the box, she had to turn around to push the door open. She saw the team, still gathered around the stairs looking at her and saw Morgan staring in her direction with a look of disbelief on his face. With a final shake of her head, she pushed the door open and walked away.


	14. Chapter 14

Months passed. Three long months, filled with hurt and longing, but also with the smallest bit of healing and rebuilding. They were settling to an Emily-less routine. Garcia no longer paused at her picture each morning, no longer allowed a small sigh to escape her lips as she brushed the cheek, forever immortalized on paper. JJ had picked up Emily's duty of bringing coffee on Mondays, something she'd started in order to combat the general sense of dread and loathing they associated with that day. The awkward bit came on that first Monday when they walked into the conference room and realized that none of them had bothered to brew a cup in the kitchen because they were waiting for Emily to waltz in, balancing two trays on top of each other. The other awkward bit came when JJ spent the next week subtly figuring out what her colleagues drank so that they would have coffee the next Monday. And then they'd all offered an embarrassed chuckle when every single one of them came in on Monday with two trays full of coffee, passed them out, and discovered that not a single person had gotten anyone else's order right. JJ, in her usual unflappable efficiency, had taken everyone's order then and there, except for Reid's who said he didn't know what Emily brought him, but that he liked it. JJ eventually extracted that it was coffee with almost a cup of sugar liberally added.

With Emily gone, Hotch had needed to adjust the partnering assignments. More often than not, either he or JJ stayed behind, as an uneven number of agents in the field didn't work. Strauss was urging him to replace Emily, even going so far as to offer up the names of some promising cadets, but Hotch had resisted. It was too soon to replace her. They needed to regain their own footing before they could bring someone new onto the team. Strauss agreed, at least for the time being, unless they stopped closing cases in a timely manner, in which case she would assign someone herself. She needn't have worried; the team's reputation for solving impossible cases grew rapidly as they threw themselves into the work, finding that looking at the gruesome photos and hearing the horrifying details of someone else's death stopped them from picturing Emily with a table leg sticking out of her stomach, blood pooling beneath her.

Hotch had stopped calling her. It was a reflex at first, after getting a call from JJ in the middle of the night he'd always pressed number 3 on his speed dial and called Emily, rousing her from sleep and listening to her mutter the normal expletives about the hour, the case, and the asshole of an Unsub that was going to feel her wrath for getting her out of bed this early. He'd done this a few times after she'd died, hung up with JJ and pressed that button only to hear the robotic voice in his ear telling him that number was no longer in service. It had been over a month since he'd done that, which he figured was some kind of progress. Jack had stopped asking too, maybe sensing that something was off with the story Hotch had told him about Emily being on vacation. He hadn't heard Jack's voice asking him if she was having fun, if she missed him, or when she was coming back. What he had heard was Jack's bedtime prayer two weeks ago when, out of the blue, he ended with normal "God bless" with "And God bless Emily, even though she's on vacation. And if you want to tell her that it's time to come home, I think that would be okay, because I really want to make pancakes and Daddy doesn't do it right. Amen."

Hotch hadn't been able to leave it like that. He'd sat on Jack's bed and looked down at his son. "Do you miss Emily?"

Jack had nodded. "She's the best."

Hotch had left it at that, fearing that he would end up giving something away about Emily's death that would leave Jack reeling. So instead of saying anything else, he'd leaned down to kiss Jack's forehead but when he'd tried to pull away, Jack had locked his little arms around Hotch's neck. "I really miss her, daddy," he'd whispered in Hotch's ear.

"Me too buddy. Me too."

Morgan, for his part, had stopped calling Anna. After she'd stormed out of the office the day of the funeral, he'd been told multiple times by his team members that verbally attacking a woman's recently deceased sister was not the way to win her over. That was the gist of it anyway. Garcia was especially upset, having been the only one whose call Anna had accepted that night. She'd recounted the conversation in the conference room the next day.

"She's listed Emily's apartment and is going back home. She wants to get the shelter up and running as soon as possible. She says thanks for everything you guys did to help Emily and plan the funeral and that she wishes you the best."

"Then why won't she answer my calls? Or any of our calls?" Morgan asked, rubbing his bruised cheek. She'd landed a good punch.

"I didn't ask her that," Garcia said coldly. "Unlike you all, I get that this is hurting her and I didn't feel the need to go after her for how she's choosing to cope with the situation."

"I didn't go after her," Morgan insisted.

"Please. You guys were too busy being mad at Emily yesterday to see that behind the composure she was falling apart. What she needed was friends and none of us gave her that, myself included."

"So we're just supposed to stop being mad about what Emily did to us?"

"Oh my God, Derek, that's my point," Garcia wailed. "This isn't about us. This is about Emily, our friend, our _teammate_ who gave her life trying to save ours. I don't like what she did any more than you do, but are we just going to be mad about it forever? Because correct me if I'm wrong, but I think that would make it hard to get over the fact that she's not here." Tears slid out of her eyes and down her cheeks. "If we can't stop being mad, we're never going to get over this."

Reid broke the silence that followed. "I'm not mad about what Emily did. I'm mad that she's not here to talk to me about it." The statement sent a jolt of clarity around the room; the knowledge that the anger and betrayal they were feeling wasn't entirely due to Emily's deceit but was in part caused by the circumstances of her brutal death and her ensuing absence.

"Can't you see how Anna felt yesterday?" Garcia asked quietly. "She wanted someone in her corner, hers and Emily's. And none of us would give her that. So now she's gone. And I can't say I blame her." She collapsed into a chair as though exhausted and wiped her eyes with the tips of her fingers. "Sorry. That was my tirade for the day."

It turned out to be the only tirade they'd needed. The next month following Anna's departure had been quiet and about as routine as you can get in the BAU and Morgan had started to make peace with the fact that he'd royally screwed up and lost both Prentiss women within days of each other. Or at least, that was what he'd told himself. At least until one morning when he'd walked into the bullpen and seen Anna's face flash on the news. He'd asked Anderson to turn it up and his initial alarm had subsided when he'd realized she wasn't in danger. He'd watched intently as the anchor delivered her story.

"Second Chance, the transitional housing facility that was destroyed in a fire last month has reopened in record time," she reported perkily. "Under the watchful eye of Executive Director Anna Prentiss, the facility was re-designed to increase the number of families it can house at one time." The screen started flashing pictures of the newly build structure which had already been sprawling before it burned down and was now even larger. The photos of the exterior gave way to segments of a guided tour that was being led by Anna, who was explaining her vision for the newer, better Second Chance.

"Everyone deserves a second chance," she concluded, looking straight at the camera. "We're here to give it to them."

The television flashed back to the news room and Morgan walked to his desk. He shuffled the papers in front of him but couldn't take his mind off Anna, who had apparently already moved back home, almost two hours away. It hit Morgan harder than it should have, her leaving. It hadn't been far when they were together but now it seemed like it was a distance that would be impossible to cross. Those thoughts were shoved out of his head when his phone buzzed, signaling a text from JJ summoning him to the conference room. He sighed and pushed his chair back, thinking to himself that the only good thing to come of this was that things might finally get back to normal.

* * *

Normal brought them to a kidnapping case two months after that news report. Three months since Emily had died. Three months after Anna left. A sixteen year old girl and her mother were missing; her father had been found shot to death in their home. Police had discovered her six year-old brother, two year-old sister, and three month-old sister bound and gagged in a closet in the basement. They weren't hurt but they weren't talking. The FBI had been called in immediately and Hotch's team was assigned to the case. The police had found footprints outside the teenager's bedroom window, which was unlocked but closed. Other than that, there wasn't anything useful at the scene.

The children were being kept at FBI headquarters but the interviews were going nowhere. They'd opted to keep the children together because the six year old boy had thrown a tantrum to end all tantrums when the paramedics had taken his sister ten feet away from him to look her over. He was proving to be fiercely protective, which was great, but he wasn't talking. They needed a description of the Unsub, or at least an account of what had happened. Neighbors hadn't heard gunshots and the ME had confirmed that the wounds were inflicted at close range, probably while the man slept. This meant the Unsub was controlled and prepared; he'd used a silencer and been able to sneak into the house without waking anyone up. It also suggested he was physically strong, as he would have had to carry both the mother and the sister out of the house; there were no drag marks, nor any footprints that were their size.

What was throwing them off was that the Unsub had taken both mother and daughter. The crime scene was too neat to have been an impulsive act, which meant the Unsub had planned this and knew who his targets were. But a preferential offender wouldn't vary the ages of his victims so widely, and a ton of different theories had been thrown around the conference room. This was why they needed to talk to the younger children, to see what they saw and remembered about the way the Unsub acted, spoke, and conducted himself. Did he go after the mother first and take the daughter to keep her quiet? Was he after the daughter and the mother was collateral damage? Without knowing what happened in the house, there was a very slim chance of cracking this case.

The FBI's interviewer had gotten nowhere. The young boy had become defensive the minute she'd walked in the door and refused to say a word. A child advocate from social services was brought in to stay with the kids but had been unsuccessful at getting them to talk to her. They were in a room that had been designed as a waiting room for families of victims who were either waiting to be questioned or waiting to hear the news of whether their loved one was dead or alive. It contained a couch, a television, and a small coffee table. There was a tiny refrigerator in one corner with a microwave on top of it, as well as a sink and a cabinet of cups. The child advocate had unearthed a playpen that had been hastily set up in a corner where the baby was currently sleeping. The advocate had, at first, exercised her right to stay in the room with the children at all times but even she, after some pointed glares from the boy, had decided it might be better to step out and watch from the other side of the observation window.

Hotch and the team surveyed the children through the window as well, trying to decide how to delicately question them, at least the boy, without sending them into an emotional tailspin. Not for the first time, Hotch knew they were all wishing Emily was there; she'd always had a special way with kids, especially child victims. Yes, they were all experts in human behavior and interviewing but it took a special kind of person to walk the fine line between deftly guiding the mind of the child to get the desired information and relentlessly bombarding them with questions.

Hotch glanced at his watch and shook his head; they were running out of time. He walked to Garcia's office and knocked once before entering.

"Garcia, I want you to get and trace a cell phone number for me." He gave her the name and she balked.

"Sir, are you serious?"

Hotch nodded once. "Now, Garcia. I need it now."

With a few taps on the keys Garcia had it. "Hang on, that can't be right..." she frowned and pressed more buttons on the keyboard. "Hotch..." she gestured toward the screen and he leaned forward, instantly seeing what had her so riled up.

"Thanks Garcia," he said over his shoulder as he walked out of the room.

Garcia continued staring at her computer screen in disbelief. She didn't know how this could be right, how this could possibly be accurate. But her babies had never been wrong before.

* * *

She relished the loud pops of the bullets as they left her gun. Focusing on the target in front of her, she landed six head shots in rapid succession. She hadn't lost her touch, that was for sure. When she paused to reload, she heard Hotch's voice behind her and she jumped.

"Nice aim."

She whirled around and stared at him with what she was sure was a dumbfounded look on her face. "What are you doing here?"

"Bringing you back, I hope," he said cryptically. He explained the rough details of the case and emphasized the standstill they were facing. "We need to reach those kids and none of us can do it."

"What makes you think I can?" she asked, reloading her weapon.

"That's what you do," Hotch cocked his head. "You're good with kids. You have a way with them, with people in general but with kids especially. They open up to you."

She sighed. "The team is not going to be happy about this."

"The team will understand why I've done what I've done. And they'll understand what you've done too."

"I'm not sure about that. I left, Hotch. Without even looking back once."

"So come back and make it right. You can't do this by yourself and you don't have to."

She took a deep breath. "Okay." She nodded. "Okay, I'll do it. But don't be surprised if I don't get a very enthusiastic welcoming party."

"We'll cross that bridge when we get there."

They got there a little over an hour later, after she'd showered and washed the sweat and gunpowder residue off of herself. While she checked in at the desk, Hotch went ahead, retracing his steps back down to the waiting room where he found the team where he'd left them.

"Where'd you go?" Rossi asked, raising his eyebrows.

"I've brought in a child interview expert," Hotch told them. "We need someone that can get through to these kids fast."

"Isn't that what we're here for?" Morgan asked. Outside "experts" always screwed things up. They were there for the glory and nothing more.

"Morgan, we're running out of time. At this point, I'll accept the help of whoever can get results and I hope you'll do the same."

"Told you there wouldn't be an enthusiastic welcoming party," a voice said from the doorway. Heads whirled and hearts sped up as they recognized the dark head of hair that was there, the face partially hidden in the shadows. Reid's mouth was the first to a name.

"Emily?"


	15. Chapter 15

"Oh for one, genius. Not up to your usual standard," Anna said as she stepped out of the shadow of the doorway. "Sorry to disappoint." She was wearing jeans and a tank top under a beat-up leather jacket with her hair loose, looking utterly unthreatening. But her hands were clasped nervously in front of her and an awkward silence ensued.

JJ broke it first, stepping forward and wrapping Anna in a warm hug. "Welcome back," she whispered in her ear.

Garcia came next from out of nowhere, crashing into Anna from behind. "It is about time you got here! What have you been up to? Why haven't you gone back home yet? Not that I'm sorry you haven't, I'm just curious." She spun Anna around by her shoulders so they were face to face and held her face in her hands. "You look tired. Are they working you too hard?"

"Back up," Morgan interrupted, raising a hand. "What do you mean, why hasn't she gone home yet?" he directed the question at Garcia but it was Anna that answered.

"I accepted a job offer here."

"With who?" Morgan demanded, finally looking at her.

"Quantico PD, at your service," she revealed, bowing theatrically.

"You're joking," he said bluntly.

"What about the shelter?" Reid asked. "We saw on the news that you'd reopened it."

"I did," Anna acknowledged with a nod of her head. "And I'm still the Executive Director. But I'm running it from here and taking more of a backseat approach. It's in very capable hands." She caught Hotch's impatient eye and abruptly changed the subject. "We'll catch up later, what's going on here?"

Hotch reiterated the shortened version of the case while Anna watched the children in the room. She learned that their names were Justin, Sophie, and Isabelle respectively. Justin and Sophie were doodling in coloring books on the floor; the baby was asleep. Justin kept reaching over to correct his sister or to turn the page for her and Anna got the sense that he relished the big brother role. Justin was wearing a Batman t-shirt and that gave her an idea. When she stepped back from the window she realized that instead of watching the kids, everyone had been watching her. Determined not to let that faze her, she stepped back further and took off her jacket, revealing a holster that held her Glock. She pulled the gun out of the holster, removed the magazine, and handed it to Hotch.

"When did you start carrying that?" Morgan asked pointedly.

"Same time I started carrying this," she said, tossing her badge at him.

"You're really a cop?" Morgan verified incredulously.

Anna shook her head. "Nope. Child interview expert. I'm a consultant. But they let me carry the gun anyway. And I promise I'm not just here for the glory." She picked up her bag and slung it over her shoulder. Without another look back she left the observation room and walked toward the door to the room where the kids were sitting.

"Is she for real?" Morgan asked Hotch.

"Let's just say that I've seen her shoot and I wouldn't piss her off when she's armed," Hotch said quietly, folding his arms and turning toward the observation window. Morgan stared at him with a bewildered look on his face until he heard Anna knock on the door through the window. Justin's head snapped up and Sophie, following his lead, turned to look at the door too. Anna knocked again and finally got a tentative "Come in." from Justin.

She opened the door slowly and stepped inside. Justin stood, pulled his sister up, and gently pushed her behind him so she was shielded from Anna's view.

"Who are you?" he asked sternly.

"My name's Anna," she answered softly.

"What d'you want? Are you gonna ask me more questions?"

"Me?" She pointed to herself and looked over her shoulder. "What would I ask you questions about?"

"About my mom and my sister. And what happened at our house," Justin said suspiciously.

"Oh, no. I mean, if you want to talk about them, you can, but I was really just looking for a quiet place to color. Everyone outside is being way too loud." She gestured toward the area of the floor next to them. "Is it okay if I sit down?"

"I guess," Justin allowed, backing up a few steps as Anna walked closer, still keeping his sister behind him. Anna set her bag on the ground and plopped down on the floor theatrically. She pulled brightly colored construction paper, markers, colored pencils, and a 96-pack of crayons out of her bag, setting them on the floor beside her. She picked up a colored pencil and started sketching. Sophie peeked her head around curiously and even Justin looked interested.

"Does that have a sharpener in the back?" he pointed at the crayons.

Anna didn't look up from her drawing but nodded. "Mmhmm. It comes in handy when I have to use one color a lot."

"Hotch, we don't have time for this," Morgan insisted, but Hotch ignored him.

Justin looked at his pile of stubby crayons and then back at Anna's new ones longingly. "Can I use 'em too?"

Anna looked up in surprise. "The crayons? Sure, go ahead!" she smiled at him and turned back to her drawing. Justin held Sophie's hand and allowed her to move so she was next to him. The two sat down on the floor across from Anna and Justin helped Sophie pick her colors. Anna tucked a piece of hair behind her ear so she could get a better view of them without making it obvious and saw Sophie mimic her. She looked up at Sophie and smiled, thrilled when she got a smile in return. She dropped her head back down and the trio colored in silence for a few minutes before the shrill cry of the baby interrupted them. In a flash, Justin was on his feet and at the side of the playpen, rubbing his sister's stomach soothingly and singing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. Within seconds, the baby was back sleeping peacefully.

She felt him looking over her shoulder, so she kept drawing.

"What're you making?" he asked.

"Watcha makin'?" his sister repeated.

"Well, I'm trying to draw a superhero," Anna frowned. "But I don't think it's turning out right." She turned her head sideways and had to stifle a laugh when Sophie did the same. Justin however, looked at it thoughtfully.

"I think it's good," he decided. "But it's not Batman."

Anna looked up at him thoughtfully. "No, it's not Batman. I don't think I could draw Batman."

His face lit up. "I can! Batman's my favorite; I can draw him real good!"

"No way! Can you teach me how?" Anna begged. "Please please please please please?"

Justin nodded enthusiastically and spent the next eight minutes guiding Anna through the steps needed to draw his favorite superhero. The finished product left something to be desired but it was passable.

"So is Batman your favorite?" she asked him, pointing at his shirt.

"Yup! He's the coolest ever! And he saves people," he added softly.

"He does?" Anna asked, as though she'd never heard of such a thing before. "That is _so_ cool."

"Who's your favorite?" he asked, scooting closer to her.

"I don't know, I don't really have a favorite," she told him.

"Then who's that? Is it Batgirl?" he asked, pointing at Anna's drawing of a dark-haired woman in a cape.

"Well, I guess it's not really a _real_ superhero," she acknowledged.

"But she's flying, so she _has_ to be a real superhero," he told her. "Who is it, Anna?" he prodded.

She looked at him conspiratorially. "Okay, you convinced me. Her name is Emily," she told him, leaning in close. Everyone outside shifted in surprise.

"That's not a very special superhero name," Justin wrinkled his nose.

Anna laughed. "No, it's not, you're right. But Emily was a special kind of superhero. See, she wasn't always a superhero. She started out as a normal person, she was even your age once. But when she grew up, she decided she wanted to help people, so she turned into a superhero," Anna explained.

"What kind of superhero?"

"She was a secret agent," she whispered, putting a finger to her lips. "But she had to keep it a secret."

"Like her secret identity?"

"Exactly. It was her secret identity."

"So did she fight bad guys?"

Anna nodded. "She fought _lots_ of bad guys. But she had one archenemy."

"Like the Joker?"

"Just like the Joker."

"What was his name?"

Anna leaned in and whispered in his ear. "The Nutty Irishman."

Justin giggled. "That's a funny name."

"I know!"

"So who won? Emily did, right?"

Anna nodded. "Yeah, she did. She beat him. The good guys always win, right?"

Justin nodded. "So, did you ever meet her? Could she really fly? Did she have any other powers?"

Anna pursed her lips. "Can you keep a secret?"

Justin nodded enthusiastically, and so did Sophie, who'd been listening intently with a huge smile on her face.

"Okay," she folded her legs beneath her. "What I'm about to tell you is top secret, alright?"

"Uh-huh," he leaned toward her.

"Emily is my sister," she said quietly.

"No way! Your sister is a superhero?"

"Yup," Anna nodded.

"Whoa. That is so cool!"

"What about your sister, huh?" she tickled Sophie's stomach and the toddler laughed. "D'you think Sophie has superpowers?"

Justin shook his head. "No, she's too little. I think Marissa might though!" he exclaimed excitedly. But then his face fell.

"Who's Marissa?" Anna asked.

"She's my other sister. She's bigger than me," he explained.

"Emily's my big sister too," she confided. "Big sisters are special. But little brothers are even cooler," she ruffled his hair. "Is Marissa here too?"

Justin looked at the floor and shook his head.

"Is she at home?" He shook his head again.

"Uh-oh. Did something happen to her?" she pried gently. Justin nodded and grabbed Sophie's hand in his own.

"Do you want to tell me about it? Sometimes talking about something that scares you can make you feel better," Anna told him.

"I can't. And you said you weren't going to ask me questions," he pouted, scooting away from her.

"You're right, I'm sorry. I just know how scary it can be when your arch-enemy comes after you. Emily's arch-enemy came to my house once, you know."

"The Nutball Irish guy?" Justin asked interestedly.

"The Nutty Irishman, yeah," Anna smiled.

"What happened?"

"He really, really scared me. But everything turned out okay. But Emily helped the police find him. Do you think your arch-enemy came to your house, Justin?"

"My arch-enemy?"

"Of course! You're a superhero, right?"

"No I'm not!" he giggled.

"Yeah you are, I've heard of you!" Anna told him. "You're Big Brother!"

"I am?"

"Yeah! You protect Sophie and Isabelle, right? You make them feel better when they're scared or crying, don't you?"

Justin nodded.

"Well, there you go then! That's what a superhero does! They help people they love, even if it's scary."

"Superheroes are brave."

"Right. And you're brave, so you must be a superhero!"

"I'm not brave," he said sadly, lowering his head.

Anna lifted his chin. "Hey, look at me dude. You _are_ brave. Being here has to be scary, and you're doing great."

"But I wasn't brave at home," he told her, on the verge of tears. "When the bad guys came, I hid under the bed with Sophie and Isabelle."

"Justin, being a superhero means you do the right thing no matter what. It doesn't mean you have to fight the bad guys all the time; that would be dangerous. But you protected your sisters and that is one of the bravest things I've ever heard." She looked him in the eye and smiled. "Ready to color some more?"

He shook his head. "I think I wanna tell you what happened at home."

"I think that would be a very brave thing to do."

He swallowed a few times and his eyes welled up as he looked at her helplessly.

"Do you want me to hold your hand while you tell me?" she asked.

He nodded and she gripped both his hands in hers.

"I was asleep and I heard a noise that woke me up."

"What did it sound like?"

"Like someone was crying. 'Cept it wasn't Isabelle because it was too quiet and she's loud when she cries." He looked over at the playpen as if to make sure the baby was still there.

"Did you figure out what the noise was?"

He shook his head. "I was in the hallway when I heard someone talking and then someone else answered them and it wasn't daddy. I thought maybe it was a robber but I was too scared to go and see."

"So what did you do?"

"I ran into Isabelle's room and I took her out of the crib. Mommy always tells me not to do that but I did it anyway."

"I'm sure your mom will understand, buddy. What happened next?"

"I took Isabelle into Sophie's room and I woke Sophie up and I made her hide under the bed with me. But Sophie was scared and she started crying and then Isabelle woke up and she started crying and I couldn't make 'em be quiet," he wailed despondently, finally breaking down.

Anna held her arms out to him and he climbed into her lap and buried his face in her neck. Sophie followed suit, patting Anna's arm until Anna wrapped her in a hug too. Justin continued in a muffled voice. "I was tryin' to make 'em be quiet but I just couldn't."

"It's okay, baby. It's okay," Anna soothed. He gradually composed himself and sat up, but didn't leave her lap. "Do you want to stop talking?" she asked, wiping his eyes.

He shook his head. "I'm okay," he told her adamantly.

She rubbed his head and he continued. "I had my eyes closed and when I opened them there was a man in front of me. He grabbed my arm and pulled me out, then the other man pulled Sophie out."

"There were two bad guys?" Anna verified, glancing toward the observation window for the first time.

Justin nodded. "One old one and one young one."

"How old was the old one, Justin?"

"He looked like my daddy. Old but not old like my grandpa."

"What about the other one?"

"He was young, like Marissa."

Anna nodded and smoothed Justin's hair. "What happened after that?"

"The old one picked up me and Isabelle and the young one picked up Sophie and they carried us downstairs. Mommy and Marissa were in the tv room," his voice wavered again.

"Were they okay?"

"I don't know," he whimpered. "They were both crying and they were tied up. And then I started crying but the man wouldn't put me down. They took us to the basement and they tied us up too and put us in the closet under the stairs. And we couldn't get out until the police came and found us," he finished. Anna squeezed him close to her and felt him hug back.

"Did anything else happen that you remember?" Justin shook his head. "Did you recognize either of the men, Justin?" He nodded and her heart sped up excitedly. "Which one?"

"The young one goes to school with Marissa. He came to our house one time to study."

"Justin, you're awesome, you know that? You're definitely a real superhero!"

He grinned at her as she placed him back on his feet. She stood and bent down to give him a hug.

"Where are you going?" he asked, his smile faltering.

"I'm going to go talk to some of my superhero friends and see if we can find those bad guys."

"Do you have to leave?" he panicked. "Can't you stay?" he gripped her hand tightly.

"Yeah, I can stay," she told him. "But listen, do you think you can do one more brave thing for me?" He nodded. "If my friend JJ brings in some picture books, do you think we could look at them and see if you recognize any of the bad guys?" She knew the team would have requisitioned Marissa's yearbooks the minute Justin said he'd recognized one of the abductors.

Justin thought about it and finally nodded. "Is your friend a superhero too?"

"She is," Anna confided.

"Cool," Justin said, just as there was a knock at the door. "Come in!" he called.

JJ entered, holding a stack of yearbooks. "Hey Justin, I'm JJ," she introduced herself. "Do you want to take a look through these while I talk to Anna for just a second?"

"I won't leave," Anna told him, I'll just be right over here." Justin nodded his assent and opened one of the books.

JJ and Anna stepped to the side and had a hushed conversation.

"We think it's a father and son duo," JJ told Anna, recounting the team's conclusion they'd reached only minutes earlier.

Anna nodded. "That makes sense, given the difference in age of the victims."

"You were great with him," JJ told her. "Nice on the superhero thing."

"Yeah, the Batman shirt was kind of a giveaway," Anna grinned.

"That's him!" Justin yelled, jabbing her finger at a picture. He passed the book to JJ and pointed again.

"Thanks Justin," JJ told him. "I've always wanted to meet a real live superhero. Wait until my friends hear I've met Big Brother!" She smiled at him and left the room in a hurry.

Justin beamed at Anna. "Are they gonna find Mommy and Marissa now?"

"They're going to try, Justin. They're going to try as hard as they can."

"Will you stay with us until they come back?" he requested.

"You bet I will. Why don't you and Sophie pick out a movie and we can all watch it?"

They picked a cartoon from the sparsely stocked shelves in the room and Anna popped it in before settling down on the couch. Justin and Sophie crawled up next to her, one on each side. Sophie immediately laid her head on Anna's lap while Justin nestled into her side. Before long, they were both asleep.

Almost three hours passed; interrupted only by Isabelle's crying, which Anna quickly remedied by fixing her a bottle and soothing her hunger. Justin had observed her with sleepy but watchful eyes and when the baby was back asleep and Anna had set her down, he laid his head on Anna's shoulder and was back asleep within minutes.

Not for long. There was a knock at the door minutes later and Rossi walked into the room. Anna tilted her head backward over the couch and was relieved when he sent a smile her way. She roused the kids and scooped Isabelle into one arm, holding Sophie's hand with the other. Justin gripped her shirt nervously and followed her out of the room. Rossi led them down a short hallway and into another room where Justin's mom and sister were waiting. With a yell of joy, he let go of Anna's shirt and sprinted toward them with Sophie not far behind him.

It was a tearful reunion and Anna felt like she was intruding. She placed little Isabelle into the arms of her mother and stepped back, acknowledging the thanks with a smile.

She walked toward the team, accepting her badge and gun from Morgan, who was waiting for her.

"You did great," he told her.

"Always the tone of surprise," she joked, putting her gun back in its holster.

"Listen, can we talk?" he asked, either unaware or completely ignoring the fact that the rest of the team was standing less than ten feet away watching the conversation intently.

"Not right now," Anna told him. "Too much emotional baggage for one day. I've hit my limit."

Morgan nodded. "I get it. When you're ready. You have my number."

"I do," she acknowledged, walking past him. She turned so she was walking backwards and addressed the rest of the team.

"Great job, superfriends. Thanks for not making me look like an idiot." She winked and disappeared into the stairwell.

"You're just going to leave it like that?" JJ prodded, nudging Morgan with her elbow.

"She said she's not ready to talk."

"Yeah, I know what she said. I'm just surprised you're listening."

"Whoa," he turned to her with a grin on his face. "Was that a dig at my character?"

"What character?" Reid asked cheekily. "The one you play when you're trying to seduce a woman or the one you play in everyday life?"

"Ouch kid," Morgan placed a hand over his heart. "Words can hurt."

"So can bullets," Rossi advised. "Since when has that stopped you from jumping in the way of one?"

"Hey now. I said I would wait until she's ready to talk, so that's what I'll do. Damn, ya'll have no faith." Morgan shook his head and walked away. "See you tomorrow." He waved a hand over his shoulder in dismissal.

"Go home and get some sleep," Hotch directed the rest of them. "Paperwork awaits first thing in the morning."

JJ and Reid walked out together leaving Rossi and Hotch alone. "You think he's going to track her down?" Rossi asked knowingly.

"I have no doubt."

"What do you think's going to happen?"

"I think that if it doesn't go well, Morgan'll come in tomorrow morning with a bullet lodged somewhere painful. That girl's a good shot." Hotch inclined his head.

"And a good consultant. You made the right call today, Aaron." Rossi clapped him on the shoulder.

Hotch nodded. "I know." And he did know. Because that was the first time he'd see any of his team crack a smile since before Emily died.

* * *

**So, if you've read any of my other stories, you know that I'm kind of a sucker for plot twists...let me know what you think!**


	16. Chapter 16

**Thanks for the awesome response to the last chapter; it means a lot! Not to be pushy, but today's my birthday and reviews make excellent presents : )**

* * *

She wound up at the cemetery, of all places. Standing in front of Emily's grave, looking down at the polished headstone and the bar of chocolate she'd laid on the ground. Emily had never been one for flowers.

"I don't know what I'm doing, Em," Anna sighed. "I have absolutely no idea." She looked up at the sky. "And you have no idea how much I wish you were here right now to talk me through this. But even though you're not here, I'm going to talk anyway because I know you're listening. Or eavesdropping maybe, because you were always really good at that." She knelt down on the ground, the grass soaking through the knees of her jeans.

"I went to the BAU today. Hotch found me and brought me in to consult on a case. Three little babies, Em, three little kids scared out of their minds. I told the oldest one you were a superhero." She laughed. "At the time I thought I came up with that out of the blue but after I thought about it, I realized that you really were a superhero, Feathers. You had the power to make people feel better and you used it, whether they wanted you to or not." Anna let her fingers trace Emily's name on the marble. "Maybe that's what I should have had them put on here. It would have been more you." She took another deep breath.

"I just feel like I don't know what to do," Anna said quietly. "I love Second Chance, you know that. I love the people we're helping but after you...died, I just couldn't go back. I tried, Feathers, I really did. I went back, I did the blueprints, and I watched them rebuild it. I cut the ribbon, I did the interviews, I thanked the funders, I got people in the door. But it felt like I wasn't doing _enough_. I know that doesn't make sense, or at least it didn't used to make sense. But I realized, Em, that it wasn't enough. It wasn't enough for me to sit back and observe, I wanted to be in the thick of it, helping people when they're truly at their lowest. And I knew I wanted to work with kids. You know that's always been my favorite part, the kiddos. But I couldn't leave completely, Em, because I couldn't just abandon my life's work. And I do still love it. So I found someone to take over for me and she's doing a great job. It's thriving, Em, thriving and growing in a way that I don't know if I could have made it do. And the job I've got now, what I'm doing, it's so satisfying. Does that sound bad? It probably does. But I _like_ being the first person those kiddos see when they've just been through hell. I want to pick them up, hold them close, and tell them they're safe. And I know you get that, because you were always the same way, especially with..." her voice trailed off.

"And I guess it helps that working with the QPD puts me closer to your old team, Em. You know we had it out the day of your funeral, at least, I'm guessing you already know that. I just couldn't understand why they were holding on to their anger and it made _me_ mad, Em. It pissed me off that they wouldn't remember you as the superhero you were because they were too focused on things that happened ages ago. God, if they'd known what you were like after you got out, how much of you had to be put together, they might've understood better. But they wouldn't even listen and I just had to get out of there. I couldn't stand around and wallow in anger I didn't feel. I didn't want to hear about your so-called betrayal I just wanted someone to give me a hug and tell me that things would feel better and that they missed you too." Tears started leaking out of her eyes.

"But as soon as I stormed out I wanted to go back in. I wanted more than anything to set them straight about everything that happened, every single frickin' thing, Em. But I didn't. They wouldn't have listened anyway, at least not then. But now, I don't know. I don't know what to tell them, how much to tell them, I just don't know. But I do know that it was good seeing them today. God help me Emily, Derek looked so good. I didn't realize how much I missed him, all of them really. But how do I go back after leaving the way I did? I wish you were here to tell me what to do." She was quiet for a moment. "But I guess since Derek's standing behind me listening to every word I say he might have an opinion on the matter." She heard him move closer and kneel next to her.

"How'd you know I was there?"

"Your cologne. I can smell it from ten feet away." She looked at him and smiled. "Hi."

"Hi."

"I told you I didn't want to talk."

"We don't have to talk. I just thought it would be a nice time to chat with Emily."

"I do that a lot," Anna confessed.

Morgan nodded. "Do you tell her the truth when you come here?"

"I do. I've never been able to lie to her. For her, yes, to her, no."

He nodded again. "She's not an easy person to lie to."

Anna chuckled in agreement but sobered quickly in an effort to get her words out in the right order. "Derek, I'm sorry for the way I left that day, I really am. I hope you know that. I hope all of you know that."

"We owe _you_ the apology. _I_ owe you an apology," he breathed out hard through his nose. "What you said, you were right. The news about Emily's involvement with Doyle hit us hard; I don't know if it was because of the lies or because of what actually happened, but to get that news and to not have the time to talk it out with her just left a lot of anger, Anna. We never had time to process what she'd told us and suddenly she was dead."

"I understand," she told him. "I truly do. It was just too much for me."

"We were making it about us," Morgan admitted. "Her death was about us and where we were left. Without her. It was selfish. I'm sorry."

"You're forgiven," she smiled. "I really did miss you. All of you," she clarified.

"I missed you too," he admitted bluntly. "But I have to ask...QPD? Really?"

She laughed. "I didn't think you'd be thrilled. But I didn't think of you when I took the job."

"So they came to you? Or did you go to them?"

"Both, kind of. I came back right after Second Chance re-opened. I just couldn't stay there because – well, I guess you heard me say why. I wanted to get back working though; I'm not good at just sitting idle. QPD had just removed a child from her home because of an anonymous tip reporting abuse. One of the officers had recently read some of my work and gave me a call. It just kind of stemmed from there."

Morgan nodded. "Ever thought of joining the FBI?" he deadpanned and she laughed. "I'm serious," he insisted.

Anna shook her head. "I know, and that's what makes it so funny. For one thing, I'd never make it in, not with this limp." She patted her leg.

"It's not like it holds you back," Morgan reminded her.

"Yeah but think about it, a gimp versus a fully able-bodied agent? Who're they gonna take? Besides, the FBI was Emily's thing, not mine." She went quiet. "But did I think about it? Of course I did. But the idea of it scared me."

"Why?"

"Because I felt like I was trying to take over her life, like I was picking up where she left off. I'm living at her home, I would have been doing her job, I would have been with you guys...it was just too much."

"Wait, you're living in her apartment?"

Anna nodded. "I packed her stuff up but then I just couldn't bring myself to leave. She loved that place. I'm just not ready to let it go."

"Well, when you are, if you need help moving, just, y'know, yell. I know some people."

"Good to know," she smiled, resting her head on his shoulder. "Are you still looking for him?"

"Doyle?"

He felt her nod. "Yes. Every day. But the man's a ghost. He's gone underground."

"What will you do when you find him?" she asked, looking up at him in interest.

"What do you mean?"

"Will you kill him?"

"If I have to," he looked at her, confused. She was, by nature, a non-violent person. Or at least she had been.

"You think someone like that deserves to get brought in alive? After what he did to Emily?"

"Anna, that's my job," Morgan told her. "I can't pick and choose who to bring in. And I can't shoot someone unprovoked."

"I know." She sat up and looked sadly at Emily's headstone.

"Could you?" Morgan asked.

"Could I what?"

"Could you kill him?"

"Absolutely."

"Anna, it's not easy to take a life," Morgan cautioned.

"I think he's an exception," she said bitterly, patting the gun that was holstered at her hip. "If I lay eyes on him and have a shot, he's dead."

Morgan didn't have a good response to that so he didn't say anything. "Do you have plans tonight?" he segued awkwardly a few minutes later.

Anna lifted her head and raised her eyebrows. "Are you asking me out?"

"Well, I'm either asking you out or I'm asking you as a friend. You choose."

"How about I just say yes and we'll go from there?"

"8:30?"

"Okay." She felt his lips brush her cheek and then he stood, walking back to his truck. Her eyes followed him and she lifted her hand as he drove off. Yes, she'd missed this.

Turning back to the headstone she sighed. "Damn it Emily, I want to tell him everything."

Hundreds of feet away, safely ensconced in a set of trees, Ian Doyle lowered his binoculars. Anna and the agent had been having a seriously intense conversation and Doyle thought he knew what it was about. He looked down at the picture he held in his hand and rubbed his thumb over the face. He lifted his binoculars back up and watched Anna brush her fingers across the headstone one more time before turning her back and walking away.

"You've done it this time, luv. You have no idea what's coming," he said quietly. He walked around the side of his SUV, got in, and ordered his driver to take off.

* * *

When Anna got back to Emily's place – her place – she glanced at the clock and found she still had three hours before Derek was due to pick her up. Plenty of time for a nap and she was exhausted. She changed into a pair of capri-length yoga pants and a turquoise tank top and climbed into the bed of what used to be Emily's guest room. She was asleep in seconds, getting the best sleep she'd gotten in months.

When she woke up it was dark and she realized she'd never set an alarm. She groaned groggily, opened her eyes, and tried to reach for her cell phone to call Derek and apologize but she found that she couldn't move her hands, which were pinned beneath her. She tried to arch her back to free them but realized that she was strapped down to some kind of soft surface. A bed, maybe? In a car? She was in some kind of moving vehicle, judging by the sounds and bumps. She blinked a few times to shake the grogginess away but the scene in front of her wasn't getting any lighter. She took a deep, steadying breath and felt movement against her face; some kind of cloth bag was over her head. Panicking now, she tried to bend her legs but felt the pressure of something across her ankles and another just above her knees; further movement indicated one across her hips and one across her chest. Her brain caught up with her muscles and she relaxed, taking another deep breath. She needed to save her strength for whatever was at the end of this ride.

Unbeknownst to her, Ian Doyle was staring down at her, less than three feet away. He was holding a syringe full of the sedative they'd used earlier, just in case Anna Prentiss had proved uncooperative. She'd been calmer than he'd expected, which was good, because he wanted her conscious and alert when he questioned her. If she was anything like her sister, she'd be a tough one to break, but it wouldn't be impossible. He had a way of getting people to talk.


	17. Chapter 17

Morgan had been pacing in his apartment for the last hour. He was pissed. No, he was beyond pissed; he was so mad he didn't even know if Reid could come up with a word to describe how he felt. Well, maybe mad wasn't the right term. Hurt? Betrayed? He'd shown up at Emily's place, which was weird enough for him. Knocked on the door. No answer. Rang the bell. No answer. He'd called Anna's cell, which had gone straight to voicemail. He'd trekked it back down to his car and sat in the parking lot for over an hour, calling her intermittently before he'd gotten the hint. She wasn't ready to forgive him for the things he'd said all those months ago. She'd stood him up.

He'd driven back to his place in an angry huff, mad at her but mostly at himself. If he hadn't been so childish in the first place this might never have happened. He'd called and canceled their dinner reservation, ignoring the man's superior tone. He'd put away the wine he'd left out and dumped her favorite junk food (chocolate covered pretzels) into the trash.

He couldn't let it end like this. She needed to give him a chance, one more chance, to apologize. He couldn't let her go like this. There was no way he was going to let her slip by. He snatched his keys off the table and booked it down to his car, which he raced back to her place. Glancing up at the windows, he noted that the lights in the apartment were on, just as they had been earlier. It was only midnight, still early enough for her to be awake. He knew that she, like Emily, was a night owl. He took the stairs because he couldn't stand still long enough to wait for the elevator and jogged down the hall to her door. He raised his fist and banged on the door several times.

"Anna, open up!" he called. He pounded the door again. "Come on, Anna. Don't end it like this. Damn it, open the door!" He heard a door open behind him and whirled around.

"Young man you are far too loud for this time of night," an elderly woman frowned at him.

He flashed his badge. "Ma'am, I apologize. I'm looking for Anna Prentiss, have you seen her?" She nodded. "Yes, they left a few hours ago, around five-thirty," she said.

"They? Who's they?" Morgan clarified.

"The paramedics. Took her out on a stretcher."

"Do you know what happened?"

She shook her head. "I'm not a nosy person. But if you ask me, that girl has too much on her plate. She always looks exhausted. Friendly though, always brings me some of whatever she's baked."

Morgan thanked her and faked a smile until she'd shut her door. He punched Garcia's number into his phone, forgetting the hour.

"Out of my dreams and into my phone," she greeted him groggily. "I love you, but it's late." Where Anna was a night owl, Garcia was most definitely not.

"Sorry mama. I need your help."

"Ask and ye shall receive my ever handsome stud muffin." He heard the rustle of sheets as she got out of bed and footsteps as she walked to wherever her laptop was stashed. "What do you need?"

"I want you to check and see what hospital Anna was admitted to tonight."

"Wait, what?"

"Anna and I were supposed to go out tonight. I got here and she never showed. I thought she stood me up but I just spoke to her neighbor who said that some paramedics took Anna out on a stretcher a few hours ago. I need you to find out which hospital she's at so I can go see her.  
Morgan explained hastily.

"Oh, God. Okay, Give me, like, two seconds. Or maybe a few more but not too many more because, okay, um, Derek?"

"Yes?" he answered impatiently.

"Anna hasn't been admitted to any hospitals tonight."

"Check for Jane Does," he requested and promptly heard the clacking of keys in the background.

"Nothing," Garcia said despondently.

"How can there be nothing?" he demanded angrily.

"I don't know," Garcia spluttered. "When a patient comes in via ambulance, there's a record of them, even if they're rushed into emergency surgery and haven't technically been admitted to the hospital."

"So why isn't there a record of her being brought in?"

"Morgan, the only reason there wouldn't be an admittance record would be if she was – not alive – when they got her to the hospital. She would have been taken down to the morgue and there could be a lag before they would attempt to contact next of kin."

Morgan ran his hand over his head. "Garcia, run calls from her cell phone, see if she was able to call 911 herself or if someone else was here." She obliged.

"There hasn't been any activity on her cell phone in the last day or so. The last call she made was to a Chinese takeout place and the last incoming call was...well, the last incoming call other than your seventeen calls this evening was from the Quantico Police Department, her job."

"Well, if she didn't dial 911 for herself then someone dialed it for her. Run the logs and see which ambulance was dispatched to her apartment."

"I am way ahead of you...this doesn't make any sense," she complained.

"What, Garcia? What doesn't make sense?"

"There is no 911 log that resulted in an ambulance being sent to Anna's apartment building from her or anyone else. Derek, she may have been taken out on a stretcher but there is no way she was taken to a hospital or anywhere else in a dispatched ambulance."

"Penelope that doesn't make any sense," Derek echoed.

"I _know_. That's what I was trying to tell you. Derek, what's going on?"

"I don't know. But I'm going to find out. Get a hold of the team and get them in. You too, mama," he requested.

"I'm practically on my way," she told him, but Morgan had already hung up. He sprinted the length of the hallway and down the stairs.

He arrived back at the BAU and wandered uselessly between the conference room and the bullpen, trying to figure out what to do with himself. Hotch got there first, dressed impeccably in a suit even at one in the morning. At the sight of him, Morgan breathed a sigh of something resembling relief.

"Hotch-"

"Give me a ten-second summary," Hotch instructed. "But save the full version for when everyone else gets here."

Morgan obliged. "Anna's missing," he said bluntly.

Hotch blinked. "Missing?" He clarified.

Morgan nodded but his attention was drawn away when JJ and Reid got off the elevator.

"Morgan, what's going on?" JJ asked. His answer was cut off by Rossi's arrival, followed almost immediately by Garcia's. She raced over to him and gave him a hug.

"We'll find her," she whispered, pecking him on the cheek.

"Find who?" Reid asked.

"Anna's missing," Morgan said tersely.

"What do you mean, she's missing?" Rossi clarified.

Morgan summarized the events of the night in fewer than five minutes. "But Garcia checked the logs and there were no ambulances dispatched to her apartment building tonight," he concluded.

"That's pretty elaborate for a kidnapping," Rossi stated. "It suggests a high level of sophistication and intelligence."

"And we'd be looking for multiple Unsubs," Reid posited. "At least two."

"Why her?" Hotch asked. "Garcia, check for kidnappings with similar MOs, anyone matching Anna's description or anything involving Unsubs dressed as paramedics or EMTs," Hotch requested.

"I already did," Garcia reported. "That's why I was late. There haven't been any missing persons reported matching Anna's description _or_ anything involving an ambulance or a stretcher."

"JJ, start reaching out to local law enforcement and see if they've got anything that could help us. Reid and Rossi, get on the phone with dispatchers and EMS companies; find out who's missing an ambulance. Garcia, keep running missing persons with what we know. Go back a few years and expand the search radius. Morgan, you and I are going to her place, you know where it is?" Hotch asked.

"Yeah," Morgan said. "She's at Emily's." To the team's credit, their only reaction was a prolonged beat of silence before they all moved off in opposite directions. Morgan banged the button for the elevator repeatedly.

"Morgan," Hotch said sternly. "You need to keep a level head on this."

"Hotch we can't let this happen again. We can't lose her too."

* * *

Hours passed and nothing new was gleaned. Anna's apartment was clean, but Hotch had called in a crime scene unit anyway. Her cell phone was gone, but Garcia reported that it was still off, so she couldn't trace it. Nor had she been able to uncover any kidnappings that fit the MO of the team that had taken Anna. Rossi had come up with the idea of pulling the security camera footage, but it hadn't yielded anything useful; the ambulance had blocked the view so that the faces of the Unsubs were never visible. The license plates had been removed, so there was no way to trace them that way, but Reid had identified the company whose ambulance was missing and gone to talk to them. They reported that it had been taken out of the maintenance bay a few days ago and that all of their drivers and medics had already been cleared. Another dead end.

By late morning, everyone was highly aware of the fact that Anna had been missing for nearly eighteen hours; their critical period was almost gone. It wasn't until then that they got their first break, courtesy of Garcia, who'd spent the night scouring traffic cameras in an effort to follow the ambulance. That had proven to be a bust as soon as it got on the highway, where cameras weren't yet placed. So, on a stroke of her own inspiration, she decided to focus on the cameras on the street where Anna lived, thinking that a kidnapping with this level of sophistication likely meant that someone had been casing the building. Chin planted in her hands, elbows resting on the table, she ran the footage, her eyes blurring, pausing every time she saw someone familiar. The first time she saw him, she let it go by. The second time she paused the video and zoomed in on the license plate. Same one as before. Not until the third time did she zoom in on the face and when she did, she pushed back from her desk so fast that her rolling chair went crashing into the wall behind her.

"Oh my God. Oh no," she muttered as she click-clacked her way to where the team was sitting in the conference room.

"Garcia?" JJ prompted, seeing the tech's stricken face.

"You're not going to believe this," she said breathlessly, lunging for the remote that was sitting on the table. "I've been going through footage from the traffic cameras around Anna's apartment building looking for someone that could have been casing the place; and you're not going to believe who's been there every day for the past week."

"Who, Garcia?" Hotch asked tersely, looking down to read a text on his phone.

"Him." She pulled up a grainy image on the screen, pressed a few buttons, and stood back as the picture came into focus.

"Doyle?" Morgan spat, anger rising. "What the hell is he doing here?"

"I don't know, but he's been sitting outside Anna's apartment for hours on end for the last week."

"Well, we know the sophistication level fits," Rossi surmised. "Doyle's an intelligent person."

"But why would he come after Anna now?" Reid asked. "He targeted her the first time so he could get to Emily but now she's – not here. He has no reason to be here."

"But he is. And we need to figure out why," Morgan said. "There is no doubt in my mind that he's behind this. We know what he's capable of, and we need to find him." He led the way out of the room with Reid and Garcia right behind him. Rossi stayed behind but at a look from Hotch nodded knowingly and backed out of the room, leaving him and JJ alone.

"Hotch, we have to tell them," JJ said, expecting immediate disagreement. "And we have to keep her out of it. It's too dangerous to bring her back."

To her surprise, he nodded. "We do have to tell them, and not just for Anna's sake. Emily's on her way here."

"What do you mean she's on her way here?" JJ asked slowly.

"She just texted me; someone broke into her apartment and she's had a tail for the last week or so."

"The same amount of time Doyle's been staking out Anna's apartment? That can't be a coincidence. You think he knows she's alive?"

"I think he suspects. But Emily's plane just landed and she knows something's going down."

"Her plane just landed? Why didn't she tell you she was planning on coming?"

"Because she knew what you and I would tell her."

JJ let out a long breath. "How do you think they're going to take it?" she wondered aloud.

"How would you take it?" Hotch raised an eyebrow.

"Good point. How long before she gets here?"

"She's already in the car. Fifteen minutes, maybe."

"Thanks for the notice, Em," JJ muttered. "You go get Rossi and Reid, I'll get Morgan and Garcia," JJ groaned, slumping out of the room.

They were all back in the conference room less than five minutes later sitting around the table apprehensively. Hotch stood, as did JJ.

"What's going on?" Reid asked.

Hotch answered immediately. "Three months ago I was faced with a decision that greatly impacted this team. After Emily fought with Doyle and was stabbed, she'd lost a lot of blood. She made it through surgery but coded in her room."

"We know, Hotch, we were there when she died." Morgan said bitterly.

Hotch held up his hand and continued. "Since Doyle was not apprehended, there was no way we could let the doctors save Emily's life, not without committing her to a life on the run."

"What are you saying?" Garcia prompted.

"The doctors _did_ save Emily," JJ jumped in. "But for her own safety, we had to report that she'd died. That was the only way we could be sure Doyle wasn't going to be able to go after her. We told her doctor that someone within the FBI had leaked sensitive information that led to Emily's kidnapping. We asked her, for the sake of Emily's safety, to tell you that she'd died. She wasn't happy about it, but she did it."

"She's alive?" Garcia's voice wavered.

"And you knew?" Reid accused. "All those nights I spent crying on your couch and you knew?"

"Spence," JJ started.

"Save it. I don't really care what you have to say."

"The decision was mine," Hotch interjected. "Any issues you have with the decision I made should be taken up with me directly."

"Issues? Damn right I got issues," Morgan spat. "We're supposed to be a team, and this is how you let this play out?" He threw his hands up exasperatedly and walked over to the window. "But I get it," he added softly. "God help me I get it." He placed his hands on the window sill and leaned against them, resting his forehead against the cool glass. "Was this the only way to save her?"

"Yes," Hotch nodded.

"Wait, Morgan, you really don't have a problem with this?" Reid asked incredulously.

"Reid if it was the only way to save her life, I would have done the same thing. And so would you."

"But I would have told the people I supposedly trust," Reid persisted.

"Spence, we do trust you and we always did. But it had to look real," JJ explained.

"And you thought that because we were angry about her and Doyle's first interaction that we would, what, sell her out? Blow her cover? Tell Doyle?" Reid accused. "You should know us better than that."

"That's not what we were thinking," JJ assured him.

"If Doyle had found out that she was alive, he would have assumed that you knew where she was," Hotch said.

Reid laughed mirthlessly. "So this was for our protection? Just like Emily didn't tell us in the first place for our protection?"

"Yes," JJ said quietly.

"Am I the only one that remembers what she did? She killed a _kid_. She lied to us for _months. _I'm not saying she deserved to die but why does she deserve our help?"

"I don't," a voice answered from the doorway. "But I'm asking for it anyway." Garcia and Reid whirled around.

"Oh my God, Emily." Garcia whispered. She sprang from her chair and tackled the brunette, who looked just as she had three months ago, only much thinner and much more exhausted. Placing her face between her heavily ringed hands, Garcia continued. "I missed you."

Emily smiled gently. "You too PG."

JJ was next, enveloping her best friend in a gentle hug. "It is so good to see you," she whispered.

Rossi was right behind her. "You don't look surprised," Emily observed.

"Some of us had an inkling," he teased, catching Hotch's eye. "What? I'm good at my job."

She looked over to where Morgan and Reid were standing and sitting respectively. She walked slowly to Morgan and looked him square in the eye. "I'm so sorry," she said.

"It's good so see you," he acknowledged. He placed a hand on the back of her head and pulled her towards him, wrapping his other arm around her waist. Hotch and JJ shared a glance; this was probably the best they could hope for from Morgan right now. Reid was still steadfastly ignoring her, a fact Emily chose not to push.

"Reid," she said hesitantly, nodding at him after she'd pulled away from Morgan. He stared at her in response and she backed down. "Hotch," she said, turning her attention to him and realizing for the first time that something other than her sudden return had them on edge.

"What's going on?" she asked slowly.

"Anna's missing," Garcia told her breathlessly.

"What do you mean, she's missing?" Emily asked. "How do you know?"

Morgan summarized the events of the previous night as Garcia pulled up the surveillance photo of Doyle outside Emily's apartment building.

"Wait, that's not Anna's place," Emily said, confused.

"She lives there now," JJ told her.

"What about the shelter?"

"She stepped down," Morgan said. "She's now a child victim interview expert with the QPD."

"Wait, I thought we just made that job up," Emily joked halfheartedly, realizing how much could change in three long months. "So you think Doyle has her?"

"Tell us about what's been going on in Paris," Hotch requested, indirectly answering her question.

"Everything was fine until last week. I started seeing the same guy at the cafés I went to, on the street, and standing outside my apartment. I got home yesterday and my apartment door was unlocked. Some things were out of place and that's when I knew I was being followed. I got on a plane and came back here; I just had a feeling. Guess I know why. Has he made contact?"

Any response was interrupted by Morgan's phone. He looked down at the and saw Anna's name pop up. He flipped it open and pressed the speakerphone button.

"Morgan."

"Still number two on the speed dial, agent. Impressive, all things considered. Of course, number one goes to an out of service number; it seems that our girl is nostalgic after all. Check your email." The call disconnected.

"What the hell was that?" Morgan asked. The voice had been Doyle's, he was sure of that. "Has he sent anything?"

"Uh, I think he just did," Garcia said, looking at her laptop.

"What is it, Garcia?"

"I just got an email from an unknown sender...addressed to Emily. This seems eerily familiar," Garcia muttered, referring to the last time she'd gotten a web link via email. That time Emily and Anna had both been in danger and they'd been forced to watch as a sadistic Unsub tried to pit them against each other in a twisted revenge plot. "What do I do?"

"Click it," Emily directed her. Garcia obliged and the image of an empty room came up on the screen. They could see an empty wooden chair but that was it. With the press of a button, the image was transferred to the television at the front of the room. Only the timestamp in the bottom right corner of the screen gave away that it was a video and not a picture.

"Oh this is way too creepy," Garcia added, her voice trailing off at the first sign of movement on the screen.

From the way camera was angled, all they could tell was that it was a man, at least until he bent down in front of the camera, filling the frame with his bearded face.

"Hello Emily," he said. "I'm sure by now your friends have figured out how to get this to you and if they haven't then, well, they're not as smart as you give them credit for. Although, neither are you, apparently. You really thought you could hide from me?" He laughed. "You got careless, Emily. You lost your edge. You had me going for a while though, I'll admit, you really did. But I found you once before and now it looks like I've got you again. But here's your chance Emily, your chance to end this once and for all. But because I know from experience that family doesn't mean anything to you, you're forcing my hand. Because Declan was family, Emily, and you tossed him aside like he was nothing. So now I've taken someone who matters to you, or used to at least. Because if anyone knows where you are, it's her. And frankly, she was the least threatening of your crew, even including the good doctor. And, if I'm any judge of character, she'll be the easiest to break. She'll tell me where you are and I'll find you. We'll go from there. But for now," he stepped back. "You watch and remember that everything that happens right here is happening because you're too much of a coward to face me yourself."


	18. Chapter 18

She was being dragged along what she thought might be a hallway; it felt like stone or concrete under her bare feet but she couldn't be sure since the bag was still over her head. A strong hand gripped her upper arm on each side of her, keeping her from stumbling as they pulled her along. She lurched a bit when they stopped abruptly; she heard the sound of a door opening and then she was pushed from behind. She stumbled but regained her footing before she hit the ground, thanks in part to the two strong hands that caught her when she fell forward. Those phantom hands guided her a few steps further before she was roughly shoved down into a chair. She sat there for a few beats, listening for anything that would help her figure out where she was but there was nothing, at least until the bag was roughly snatched off her head, making her jump. She blinked away the disorientation that plagued her but all she could figure out was that she was in a poorly lit room. She leaned forward to get a better look around but again, a pair of hands slammed her back against the chair, making the chain on her handcuffs rattle. The hands were strong as they started to massage her shoulders and her neck. She stiffened even as the fingers expertly found the knots lodged in her shoulders and started pressing on them.

"Long day?" a voice said softly in her ear after a minute. An Irish-accented voice. And then she knew.

"Long few months," she responded, relaxing a little. At least with Doyle she knew what to expect.

"Oh yes, my deepest sympathies," he said, gathering her hair and letting it fall through his fingers back onto her shoulders. "I'd forgotten how much you look like her. Both you have the gift of eternal beauty and grace." There was a hint of longing in his voice that set Morgan on edge.

"I don't know whether to take the fact that you're comparing me to my dead sister as a compliment or an indication that I look like a zombie." She heard him chuckle behind her.

"You know," he said, moving away from her. "You surprise me."

"In what way?" she asked, deliberately not giving him the satisfaction of turning to face him.

"Cool under pressure. Never afraid. And there's a presence about you that other people don't have."

"A presence? You're getting corny."

"I'm serious," he continued, a joking tone to his voice, as though he was grinning. "Why do you think you won all those gold medals? People _love_ you. You make them feel good. And you inspire them."

"Are you on something?" Anna asked, honestly confused. He laughed openly.

"You know, I saw you compete once."

"Gymnastics doesn't seem like your thing."

"I like the leotards," he responded cheekily.

"Of course you do."

"The world's best power gymnast. That's what the press used to call you."

"I remember," she told him, still unsure of where he was headed.

"You really were phenomenal. You walked into the stadium and everyone's eyes went to you; the last of the American team to walk in. Fourteen years old, head held high and totally and completely focused. It was impressive, especially given the circumstances. You haven't forgotten those, have you? No, of course not. Everyone knew the top two contenders were going to be you and the Russian...what was her name?"

"Nadia Petcov," Anna said instantly.

"So you do remember," Doyle gloated triumphantly. "Everyone knew it was going to come down to you and her for the top spot. And a certain high-ranking Russian official had just taken to the press the day before and explained why there was no way you could beat his top gymnast. He tore you apart and you walked in there like nothing was wrong. But then, the first rotation on beam, you stumbled. A foot slipped and you scored low. Nadia was ahead."

"Why are we taking this meet step by step, exactly?"

"Patience, we'll get there," Doyle assured her. "Floor and vault were your strong events, which everyone knew, given your power level and strength, which I see you still have." He patted her toned thigh a few times before continuing. "Impeccable vaults, your legs a blur as you ran down the mat before flying through the air. And on the floor, starting slow, pushing up into the handstand and gaining momentum throughout the routine," he was speaking faster now and Anna sensed he was starting to make his point. "Impeccable," he said again. "And at the end of three rotations you were still only just barely ahead by a fraction of a point." He was pacing behind her now, every move caught on the camera sending the live feed back to the BAU where the team sat watching him grow more manic and Anna's face grow more bewildered. "Nadia was first and she delivered an almost flawless routine. You needed a perfect score to beat her, to put the American team on top of the Russians. But bars were your weakest event, because no one is perfect. I don't think anyone dared to take a breath during that routine. And when you landed, everyone knew. And so did you. Before the judges even announced their scores you walked off the mat and back to where your team was waiting. A path that took you directly past where that particular Russian official and myself were seated. You paused, turned your head, and you _winked_." He burst out laughing. "You winked at him. It was priceless Anna, you have no idea. He offered me a hundred thousand dollars right then and there to take you out before you left town."

"Well, either you didn't take him up on his offer or this is a very delayed contract fulfillment."

"I turned him down, told him I couldn't kill anyone with that kind of tenacity." He wrapped a fist in her hair and yanked her head back. "So I guess that means you owe me."

Anna barked out a laugh. "I owe you? Tell you what, you didn't kill me, but you _did_ kill Emily, so the best we can do is call it even."

"But there's your problem," Doyle hissed. "The part where you say I killed Emily." He pulled her hair harder. "Don't play dumb. Where is she?"

"Six feet under," Anna spat. "Right where you put her."

He released her hair and shoved her head forward. "Don't lie to me, Anna. I know everything. Now where is she?"

"Emily's dead."

Doyle shook his head. "You don't need to keep up the charade Anna. You and I both know that Emily is alive and well."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Anna said slowly.

"Don't expect me to believe that you don't know!" Doyle shouted. "Emily was alive and living in Paris last week. An associate of mine recognized her on the street and sent me a photo. Look at it!" He reached over her shoulder and held his an 8x10 photo in front of her face. It was of a dark-haired woman with a bag slung over her shoulder. Anna had no doubt that it was her sister.

"Okay, number one, this picture could have been taken any time. Number two, if Emily was going to go into hiding, she wouldn't pick Paris, she hates that city. She says it's full of snobs that wear too much perfume. Number three, if your guy was close enough to snap her picture, why didn't he take her out then and there? _You_ expect _me_ to believe that anyone in your organization doesn't know the history between you two?"

"He tailed her back to her flat and followed her for a few days, as were his orders. She gave him the slip and he lost her." He bent down to hiss in her ear. "I want to know where she is."

"Well, seeing as I still don't buy any of the shit you're shoveling, I don't have anything to say about it. Emily is dead."

"You know what I find interesting?" he asked, his tone changing suddenly. "You were always so press-shy, even at the height of your career. No press conferences, no television appearances, and no magazine interviews," he finished. She looked up at him as he walked around in front of her for the first time and she saw that he was carrying a rolled up magazine. "Except this one." He held it so she could see herself on the cover, mid-backflip, her legs open in a perfect split, the beam a foot beneath her head. "Your first and only press interview. Now, why would you suddenly decide to give an interview, something everyone knew you said you would never do?"

Anna glared at him. "That interview wasn't ever supposed to be released," she told him.

"Then why do it?"

"It wasn't a magazine interview. Emily's homework assignment one night when she was thirteen was to interview a member of her family to practice her writing skills. She interviewed me, turned it in, and we thought nothing more of it. But our father found it years later and, seeing his opportunity, sold it to the highest bidder."

Doyle shook his head in mock sympathy. "Daddy issues," he taunted. "These things always have a way of coming back to haunt you." He flipped through the magazine until he found the page he wanted. "Oh wait." He walked away from her, into the far corner of the room and she heard the sound of something heavy being dragged. As he drew closer to her, she heard water sloshing and her heart started pounding. Back at the BAU, Emily's rubbed her brow and let loose with a steady stream of cursing. "Son of a bitch," she muttered.

"What?" Reid asked quickly. "What's in the interview?"

"One of the questions was about her greatest fear," Emily explained disgustedly, holding up one hand in helplessness. "When Anna was four, our father decided that it was time for her to learn how to swim. She didn't like water, so it was slow going. She could dog paddle, but she wouldn't do anything more than that. He got fed up one night, picked her up from the dinner table and carried her down to the pool. We had one of those automatic pool covers that would open or close with the press of a button; so he opened it, told her that it was time for her to learn to swim once and for all and that the best way he knew to do that was to set up a race. He threw her in the deep end and hit the button to close the cover. By the time she made it back to the surface, the cover was already ten feet in front of her. She almost drowned and ever since then she's never been able to go underwater. She doesn't even like taking baths." Emily trailed off as Doyle spoke on-screen.

"You know, I've found that interrogations go a lot easier for all involved if you have the right kind of persuasion." He patted the basin of water next to his feet. "I'll ask you one more time, where is Emily?"

"She's _dead_," Anna told him icily. "You killed her three months ago in a warehouse in Boston. Or did you forget that?"

Doyle's punch connected solidly with her cheek and Anna fell off the chair. Doyle lifted her by the neck and dragged her over so she was kneeling by the basin. He wrapped a strong hand in her hair and knelt next to her. "One last chance," he offered.

"I don't know what you want to hear," Anna pleaded. He plunged her head into the icy cold water, holding her down easily. He pulled her up for a split second, only long enough for her to let out her remaining air, but not long enough for her to draw another breath. In a flash, she was back beneath the water; her forehead scraping the bottom of the container. She tried to lift her head but Doyle had every advantage and her struggling proved fruitless. Just as her chest felt it was going to burst, she was yanked out of the water. Doyle let go of her hair and she fell onto the ground, taking deep gulps of air.

"Where is she?" Doyle asked calmly. "If she thought she'd been found out she would have contacted someone and she would have called you. Where did she go after she left Paris?"

Anna stayed silent, her eyes closed, but listened intently to everything he was saying. Doyle truly seemed to believe that Emily was alive and Anna didn't know what to make of that. She wanted to believe it, she really did. The thoughts of seeing Emily again, of being able to talk to her, to hug her tight, were irrepressible. But she knew Doyle operated this way; he deduced fears and dreams and he exploited them to get what he wanted. But the question remained: if Emily was dead, then why was she here?

"Even if I knew, why would I tell you?" she finally managed to ask. "After everything she went through to get away from you, why would I do anything to get you closer to her?"

"Everyone has their breaking point," he informed her. He picked her up by her hair again and dunked her under the water, holding her down longer this time. He lifted her head for a second just as she was about to pass out. "Tell me," he ordered, ignoring the water dripping off her face. She shook her head and he shoved her back under, repeating the process for nearly twenty minutes, to Emily's dismay. She looked physically pained from watching what was going on and Hotch moved to stand next to her.

When it looked like Anna was going to pass out Doyle refrained from dunking her and let her fall to the floor again. She rolled so that she was hunched over on her knees and coughed up water.

"I admire your loyalty, really, I do." Doyle told her, staring down at her, evidently amused. "Even in the face of your own death you're willing to die for her. Anna, think about this: if Emily is alive, as I know she is, and you really don't know, as you insist, that means that she has been lying to you for months." He squatted next to her. "What does that feel like, Anna?"

"What did it feel like to you?" She spat back. "Finding out that Emily was just close to you because she was following orders? Eight months of lying?"

"It may have started out that way," Doyle acknowledged. "But you can't fake that kind of passion."

"Wait a minute; you think she actually had feelings for you?" Anna laughed. "Emily was _sick_ over what she did with you." Anna reported. She saw Doyle's smile falter for the first time, and she pressed on. "When she got back after her assignment she put on a brave face for the first week but there were little things. She couldn't look at herself in the mirror. She couldn't watch "P.S. I Love You" or any other movie with Irish accents. One night I found her in her room, curled into a ball, sobbing. You made her sick; she was disgusted with herself for even being _near_ a creature as vile as you, let alone sleeping with you. Those were her words, by the way, not mine," Anna ranted. She shook her head in mock pity. "It must have been hard for you, finding out that the woman you fell so hard for was planning to take you down all along." She didn't even fight as Doyle dragged her back over to the water. She didn't fight him even as darkness crept in and her head started to swim. She accepted the darkness gratefully, since the darkness meant the pain in her lungs was going to disappear. And then, it was gone. She didn't feel Doyle rip her head out of the water or feel her body slam into the floor after he let go of her.

"I don't think she's breathing," JJ said. Silence followed, broken only by Doyle's labored breathing on-screen. Morgan turned away, running his hands over his head. Emily felt Hotch's arm encircle her waist and she unconsciously leaned into him, relishing the first contact she'd had with a human being that was more than getting shuffled on the street.

"You know, drowning victims have been resuscitated up to a few hours after they stopped breathing. When a body is starved for oxygen the heartbeat and breathing rate of the victim slow down in order to preserve as much energy as possible. It's entirely possible that, as long as her lungs aren't filled completely with water, she'll start breathing again on her own," Reid offered in support.

"Doesn't look like we'll have to wait to find out," Rossi observed. Morgan whirled around to see Doyle kneeling beside Anna's unmoving body. He tilted her head back, pinched her nose, and covered her mouth with his. Her chest rose and fell and he leaned back. Seeing no further breath on her part, he started chest compressions, alternating between those and the assisted breaths. Finally, after a few agonizingly long minutes, Anna spluttered and coughed; water dribbled out of her mouth and down her cheeks. Doyle turned her on her side so she wouldn't choke and waited her out. After her coughing fit subsided, he pulled her backwards and propped her up against the wall so she could breathe easier before sitting back and surveying her with narrowed eyes.

"You're a fool," he all but snarled. Anna looked up at him, breathing heavily. "I need one simple answer from you. One!" he yelled. "Can you not see this from my standpoint? Emily murdered my son in cold blood. Whether she had feelings for me or not is a completely different issue. I'm doing this for Declan," Doyle said quietly, trying to appeal to her softer side.

"Declan hates you for what you did to Emily," Anna said hoarsely.

Doyle laughed mirthlessly. "Declan _hates_ me? How could you possibly know that? He would be proud of me for doing what it takes to avenge his death."

Anna shook her head and took a deep breath. "Let's take a hypothetical situation. Suppose, just suppose, that the night you were captured, the night Declan was supposedly murdered, Emily whisked him and Louise away to the airport, just as she told the CIA. She tied them up, gagged them, and smeared costume blood on their bodies. She snapped their photos, washed them off, and explained once and for all what was going on and why they had to leave. Suppose she loaded them onto a chartered plane, paid the pilot cash to secretly fly them to the States on the tail of the CIA jet Emily was riding on without filing a flight plan. She landed a half hour before they did and made a call to her handler. She told him that something had gone wrong and she'd had to kill the boy and his nanny because they were making too much noise and she couldn't risk getting caught. She sent him the pictures she'd taken and told him that he would never find the bodies. It would have been easy enough for them to believe, given the nature of their work. Then her jet had landed and she drove Declan and Louise back to Virginia. It's entirely possible that she showed up on the doorstep of a homeless shelter called Second Chance that had opened the previous year, my shelter. Maybe I brought them in, gave Declan and Louise a tour, and gave them a room. Emily sat with Declan all night, answering his questions about what was going on and explaining the situation in a way a six-year-old could understand. Emily, Louise, and I brainstormed for most of the next day, thinking of a way to hide them for good, just in case. Louise would have been on board, wouldn't you agree?" she hadn't moved an inch and from her spot on the ground she could see that she had Doyle's undivided attention. "It just so happens that even outside of this hypothetical situation I have friends that do important things. There are a few gentlemen that help my clients who've lost their birth certificates, their driver's licenses, and can't remember their social security numbers. I called in a favor and explained that I had a grandmother and her grandson who were fleeing a violent relationship; the boy's father was insane and violent and they needed to get away. They'd had to leave all their paperwork behind and were terrified to go and get it. I fed him some bogus information about Declan's place of birth, about Louise's driving record, and got new social security numbers for both of them. They stayed a week and then I took them away. Emily and I decided it would be best if she didn't know where they were; she wanted to keep them safe more than anything. We agreed that if you ever got out of North Korea alive you would come after her first, which would give me time to move them. She didn't think you knew about me and even if you did, why would you come after me? I told you that Emily made it through the first week just fine. That was because Declan was there with her, keeping her sane. After he left, it was like someone flicked a light off and Emily started to shut down. She knew she'd made the right decision but that didn't make it any easier. I hid them, and that's the only secret I've ever kept from her. I've never told her where they are and she's never asked. She used to write Declan letters and send them to me; I would take them to him when I visited. I went and saw him every few months, under the cover of a business trip. I took precautions, of course. I booked a flight and a hotel, usually in Europe, using my credit card. I flew there, checked in, walked out under the guise of going sightseeing, paid cash for a flight to their home and stayed with them for a few days before paying cash for another flight back to Europe. As far as I know, no one ever noticed. So you ask me how I could know that Declan hates you for what you did to Emily? He told me himself, three months ago when I last saw him and I had to tell him that his father had murdered the one person that had sacrificed everything for him." She took a breath after finishing the story and stared Doyle hard in the eyes. Hers were filled with contempt, his with confusion, anger, and the slightest bit of happiness. He lunged forward, wrapping his hands around her arms and lifting her off the floor. He slammed her back against the wall and leaned in close.

"Where is he?" he hissed, a note of desperation and longing coloring his menacing tone.

Anna smirked. "Not telling." With a yell of rage, Doyle threw her to the ground and kicked her repeatedly. She spat out a mouthful of blood as black spots danced across her vision.

"Tell me where my son is!" Doyle shouted at her, kneeling so that he was straddling her. Anna didn't say anything and Doyle unleashed his fury again, his fists sending her head snapping from side to side.

"Who else knows about this?" he asked calmly.

"No one," Anna told him, her words were slurred and she looked a little dazed. At best, she had a concussion.

Doyle chuckled. "You can't expect me to believe that." He stood and walked a few feet away from her, staring at the wall, as if he was deep in thought. "Emily doesn't trust easily," he mused.

"I wonder why," Anna muttered sarcastically, trying desperately to stay conscious.

"She told you because she trusts you," he continued, ignoring her completely. He whirled around suddenly as if something had clicked in his head. "And she trusts her team members. She told me so herself. They know, don't they? That my son is alive?"

Anna shook her head slowly. "No, they don't."

"You're lying," he accused.

"I'm not. You think she would have put them in that kind of danger? That she would have made them targets?"

"I find it more interesting that she thought she could protect them from me forever. Keeping them in the dark was a smart move on her part. But that's our girl. Putting others before herself and taking the moral high ground," he mocked. He picked his gun up from the far corner of the room. "She should have known better," he smiled, moving toward her. "You're protecting them too, aren't you?"

"I'm not protecting them," Anna insisted. "They don't know anything."

Doyle shook his head in pretend sympathy. "No, you would have told them everything as soon as you thought Emily was dead."

"There wasn't a reason to. As soon as they found out about you and Declan they wrote her off and shut her down. No way was I going to tell them anything after that."

Ian surveyed her carefully. "Maybe not," he allowed. "But that doesn't mean they couldn't _persuade_ you to tell me now. Do you understand what I'm saying? You choose, Anna. Where is Declan?"

She stared at him defiantly until he stood and turned his back on her. "Wait!" she called out as he reached the door. "I don't know where he is. You have to believe me," she begged desperately.

"Seeing someone familiar might help jog your memory. Derek Morgan, perhaps?"

"I don't know where he is...but I can tell you where he might be," she finally offered up. "I set up three safe houses for Declan and Louise. I have no idea which one they're at right now."

Doyle was by her side in a flash. "What are my choices?"

She closed her eyes and rattled off three sets of coordinates in a defeated tone. When she opened her eyes, Doyle was striding triumphantly out of the room.

"Get some rest, Anna. I wouldn't want you to miss the family reunion!"


	19. Chapter 19

It was true. They all knew it. Everything made sense now; Emily's keeping this a secret in the first place, her evasiveness when asked for the truth, why she went along so easily with the disappearing plan, and why she had such a soft spot for their child victims. This was the Emily Prentiss they knew; the one who had always kept all their secrets without giving anything away. The one who had the perfect words to say in times of burnout, exhaustion, and loss of faith. The one who was always there in the middle of the night to talk through nightmares or listen to family problems. So when Anna offered her hypothetical situation to Doyle and everything clicked, everything changed.

"We need to get agents to each of those houses now," Rossi told Garcia.

"I'm way ahead of you," she answered.

"Don't bother," Reid told the pair of them, and Emily snapped her head to the side to glare at him.

"Why not?" she demanded.

"Because the first set of coordinates is a location approximately ten miles from the North Pole, a place that is unlivable for human beings. The second is in the Sahara Desert, and the third is in the middle of the Indian Ocean," he rattled off. "She lied. Which seems to be a theme with the pair of you."

Emily sighed with relief, ignoring the jab. She should have known that Anna wouldn't have given Declan up so easily. With that out of the way, the silence stretched on while everyone processed the information they'd just learned.

Hotch recovered first; he interlaced his fingers with hers and looked at the color that was just starting to rise in Emily's cheeks.

"Emily," Morgan started, but didn't go further.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Garcia asked guiltily, feeling the doubt she'd had about her friend lift.

"Because if she had, we all would have been in danger," Rossi guessed correctly. "The more people that knew about Declan the more opportunity there was for word to get back to Doyle."

"We wouldn't have told anyone," Reid argued, still angry.

"But Doyle still would have come after us," JJ told him, having seen Doyle's full file during her time in the State Department. She knew what he was capable of.

"We could have protected ourselves if we'd known," Reid said adamantly.

"But we couldn't have protected everyone," Hotch said gently. "Doyle goes after families. Your mom, Reid, Morgan's sisters, Will and Henry, Jack. They all would have been at risk if there was even a chance that we knew something."

Reid's expression softened at the mention of Jack and Henry, as Hotch had known it would. Reid had a surprising way with kids.

"So what's Declan now, fourteen?" Morgan asked Emily. She nodded. "And you really have no idea where he is?"

"No," she finally said. "Everything Anna said was true. She hid him and Louise and didn't tell me where they were. That way, there was no chance that Doyle could find them even if he came after me. She's the only one that knows. Which is why I don't get why she told him that he's alive," she said, a bit angrily. "If she'd kept her mouth shut, Ian wouldn't even know that Declan was still out there for him to find."

"She's doing it for you," Reid said bluntly, as though it should have been obvious. He spoke more quickly as he worked it out in his mind. "Emily, it's a win-win. For Anna, if you're alive, which you are, she would want to keep Doyle away from you for as long as possible to give you a chance to get away, to relocate again. She's stalling so you have a chance to save yourself. Or, if you're dead, as she thinks you are...maybe a part of her is hoping Doyle kills her so she can be with you again."

"Anna's not suicidal," Morgan told him vehemently.

"I'm not saying she is. But have you ever wanted to just see someone one more time, wanted to tell them how sorry you were for everything, that you felt like you would be willing to do anything to get the chance?" his voice trailed off and he suddenly propelled himself at Emily, wrapping his thin arms around her and hugging her tightly. "I'm so sorry for everything," he whispered. She stretched her arms around his thin frame and was conscious of other bodies pressing closer to them, of a hand on her arm, another grabbing both her hands and squeezing, a pat on the shoulder. She never would have figured the BAU team for a group hugging bunch, but she knew it was their way of apologizing for doubting her, for believing that she was capable of doing all they'd thought she had. And it felt right. Strange as it sounded, she knew that she was where she belonged, here in the arms of her team who had her back no matter what. And that meant they had Anna's.

"We have to get her out of there," she announced when everyone had pulled back.

"Do you think she'll give Doyle the information he wants?" Rossi asked.

Emily shook her head fervently. "Not a chance. Anna loves Declan. She won't give him up, no matter what Doyle does to her."

"The good news is that time is on our side," Hotch said. "Doyle won't kill her until he has the information he wants or is satisfied that he will never get it. I'm inclined to think that he won't give up easily."

"So we just have to find him," JJ said. "Where do we even start looking?"

"I have an easier way," Emily said, grabbing her cell phone. Hotch grabbed it out of her hand before she had a chance to do anything more than unlock the screen.

"No."

"Hotch-"

"You're not doing this by yourself this time," he told her. "We're going to work this as a team. No suicide missions."

"We don't have time for that," Emily protested, reaching for her phone.

"Yes, we do," he countered. "You said yourself that Anna won't give up Declan's location. She'll give us the time we need to find her."

Emily dropped her arm as Hotch gave out assignments. The team filed out of the conference room to make calls, run down associates, or start filtering through street camera footage from the past day. Hotch stayed behind and set Emily's phone on the table.

"Why did I get her into this, Hotch?" She asked quietly. "I never should have brought them to her."

"You did it to save them," he reminded her. "Anna knew the risk when she agreed to do it."

"She never expected this to happen."

"She had to know it was a possibility. And you and I both know she can handle the physical pain." Hotch stated, referring to the injuries she'd suffered when she and Emily had been kidnapped by an Unsub named Mulgrew.

"Hotch I know what Doyle does to people. He will torture her for hours, for days, Hotch, do you get that? It's a little different than being stabbed once. Doyle will drag it out for as long as he wants. How is she supposed to handle that?" she asked exasperatedly.

"Do you remember when I was working on the security detail for you and your mother in Europe?" Hotch segued suddenly.

"Yes," Emily answered, picturing the handsomely frowning man who was frequently at the edge of her teenage memories.

"When you were sixteen, you decided to fly back to the States to visit Anna for her twelfth birthday. I, as the unfortunate new team member, was assigned to escort you."

"You weren't happy about it," she recalled, shooting him a brief smile. "Your scowl was more pronounced than normal."

"I wasn't. Because spending time babysitting two over-privileged children was not how I envisioned my career taking off."

"Ouch."

"The flight was better than expected; you proved to be intelligent, engaging, and down to earth."

"Thank you?" she smiled at the memory but was still unsure of where this uncharacteristic stroll down memory lane was taking them.

"When we got to your father's home he wasn't there and neither was Anna. She got there about a half hour later, having taken the subway home when your father didn't come to pick her up from practice. She walked into the house and set her gym bag on the floor before walking into the kitchen. She had just reached into the freezer when you snuck up behind her. She sensed you there and when she turned back around she screamed and tackled you."

"I remember. Where is this taking us, exactly?"

"I'm getting there. You asked her what she was doing and she said she was looking for leftovers she'd stashed there the night before. No big deal. The two of you spent the night in and talked for hours."

"Did we bore you?" she half-joked, but he ignored her.

"Later that night after the two of you were supposed to be in bed, I heard someone up walking around. I followed the footsteps down to the kitchen and watched her make an ice pack and press it gently to her shoulder. I asked her if she was alright and she assured me she was fine. I pressed her more and she admitted that she'd dislocated her shoulder at the gym. Her coach had popped it back in."

"What's your point, Hotch?"

"My point is that if she can handle the pain from a dislocated shoulder just so your visit won't be ruined, she can handle a lot more when she's keeping someone she loves alive. She's going to be fine, Emily, and we're going to bring Doyle down for good this time." Before he thought about it further he had his arms wrapped around her, pulling her close. He rested his chin on top of her head and he felt her body meld to his. "I missed you, by the way," he told her.

"I missed you too," she whispered, her nerves calmed by the steady thumping of his heart. "More than you know."

* * *

Three hours later they had nothing. Absolutely zilch. Nada. No clues, no leads, no contacts, no insight into where Doyle would have taken Anna. And as much as Emily was trying to maintain her composure, cracks were starting to show.

"I have to call him," she finally said.

"No," Hotch shot her down without even glancing up from the folder he held.

"It's the only way we're going to find out where she is."

"You really think he's going to tell you over the phone?" Morgan asked incredulously. "Just like that?"

"What other shot do we have?" Emily fired back.

"I think you should do it," Reid told her. "Call him, set up a meeting, and see what happens."

Everyone stared at him. "What?" he asked. "You did it by yourself once and found him just fine. Do it again."

"Spence," JJ said softly, taken aback by the icy tone in his voice. After what had happened earlier, she'd thought he was ready to forgive and move on. But she should have known that it wouldn't be that easy.

"No, he's onto something," Rossi said. "Doyle's expecting Emily to call him. He thinks he knows her better than anyone else. And after what happened last time, he thinks you'll go solo again."

"What are you thinking?" Hotch asked.

"Make him think that Emily's going at it alone again. We stay back, hidden away. She meets him, he takes her to wherever he has Anna, and then we take him down."

"What if he doesn't buy it?" Morgan asked. "Or what if he kills Emily then and there? Or grabs her and takes her somewhere else? There're too many what-ifs," he protested.

"He'll buy it," JJ said. "He's desperate to find Declan."

"So?" Morgan asked.

"So what better way to make Anna talk than to threaten Emily?" JJ offered. "It's not like he hasn't done it before. Isn't that what started all of this?"

"What do you think?" Hotch asked Emily.

"I think I'm tired of sitting around doing nothing," she told him earnestly. "This is the best shot we have."

He kept his eyes locked on hers for a long moment. "Alright. Garcia, we need eyes, ears, and a way to track Emily at all times."

"No, Hotch, no wires. I can guarantee you he'll search me."

"Something small then, Garcia."

"I'm on it like cream cheese on a bagel," she promised as she rushed from the room.

"Morgan, get the tactical team ready," Hotch directed. The latter nodded once and left the room as well.

"Rossi and Reid, I want you to get rolling surveillance teams ready. As soon as we have a location, I want our people flooding the area. Inconspicuously. JJ," he said, turning to her.

"I know, I know. Make Strauss say yes," she quipped, following Rossi and Reid out of the room and leaving Hotch and Emily alone.

"You're sure about this?" he asked.

"Definitely," she said steadfastly.

He handed her the phone and she pressed number one on her speed dial and activated the speakerphone. It rang three times before she heard his voice fill the air around her.

"I was wondering how long it would take your friends to find you," he told her, evidently amused. "They're very efficient."

"Let me talk to Anna" she ordered.

"Wasting no time on pleasantries, are we? In due time, luv."

"Then tell me when and where to meet you."

"There's an old warehouse on Tucker. One hour. And Emily, make sure you're alone."

Emily barked a harsh laugh. "Don't worry Ian, after last time they don't want anything to do with me."

"Guess I'm all you've got then." He hung up.

Emily stared down at the phone.

"You know that's not true, right?" Hotch asked her gently. "That we don't want anything to do with you."

"I know. I wouldn't blame you if it was though."

"That's not something you have to worry about."

She looked up at him and he saw vulnerability on her face for the first time since he'd known her. The fact that Ian Doyle could make Emily Prentiss of all people doubt herself spoke volumes as to the man's power.

"Can you forgive me?"

"For which part? Lying to me for years, letting me believe you killed a small child in cold blood, or for sleeping with him?"

"Any of it," she whispered.

As an answer, he bent down and pressed his lips to hers for the briefest second, wrapping his arms around her. "All of it," he said quietly.


	20. Chapter 20

Garcia had, as usual, come up with a few strokes of pure genius as far as technology was concerned.

"This is your camera," she'd told Emily, holding up a simple gold chain with what looked to be an opal pendant. "The camera's right in the middle here," she pointed it at it while pulling up the video feed on the big screen in the conference room. Her bespectacled face filled the screen.

"And it won't emit a signal?" Emily verified.

"Not one strong enough to be detected if he tries to find one."

"What about the GPS Baby Girl?" Morgan asked.

"Got that too," she told him. She pulled Emily over to her and lifted her shirt, giving them all a clear view of the scar tissue that marred her once uniform stomach.

The room stilled; seeing the after-effects of such a brutal assault made it all seem more real somehow, and the team was reminded of everything Emily had had to deal with on her own in Paris. "It's not as bad as it looks," she said quietly, wanting to wipe the look of horror off Reid's face. "And I said no wires, Garcia."

"And I listened," Garcia said jokingly. She pulled the waistband of Emily's jeans away from her body and tucked something behind the button. "There," she said, full of self-satisfaction. She checked the signal strength on her laptop. "Walk over there," she ordered. Emily complied and Garcia smiled. "Strong as can be."

"Good job, Garcia."

"Uh, well, sir, there's a catch to this one. The way I have the camera worked up, it's streaming to its own secure website. But to keep the signal strength of the GPS undetectable, I had to tone it down. A lot."

"Bottom line Garcia," Hotch prompted.

"Bottom line is that we have to be within ten miles of Emily in order to pick up the signal," Garcia said tightly. "It was the best I could do."

"It's fine, Garcia." Hotch said. "We won't be more than that far away."

"Are the tactical teams ready?" Hotch asked Morgan.

"All ready to roll. We'll be in there as soon Doyle shows up."

"No," Emily protested. "Not until he tells us where Anna is. She won't be with him."

Morgan nodded. "But if he makes a move toward you Emily, we're coming in," Morgan told her.

"What about the surveillance teams?" Hotch pressed, looking to Rossi and Reid.

"Our guys are in place around the warehouse. There hasn't been any unusual activity and with the end of the work day the area is starting to empty out," Rossi reported.

"That's good, right?" JJ asked. "Fewer civilians in the line of fire."

"Or easier for Doyle to notice our people," Emily said warningly. "Hotch, I don't like it."

"No arguments," he told her. "If they're not there, you don't go in." He handed her a bulletproof vest and, resigned, she grabbed it, quickly strapping it into place as the others did the same. Garcia did one final tech check, testing the eyes and ears of the camera in Emily's necklace and the signal from the GPS locator on her jeans. She reported that both were strong and sent Emily on her way with a slightly tearful wish of luck.

"You'd better come back in one piece this time!" she called after Emily's back. Emily grinned over her shoulder, the picture of nonchalance.

"You got it, PG!" She turned back around and reached her hands back to tighten her ponytail. "We'll all come back in one piece," she vowed under her breath. "I'll make sure of it."

* * *

The drive to the warehouse took just under two hours. Emily drove ahead of the team in her rental car while the rest were in one of their standard black SUVs. Reid was holding the screen that was showing the video feed while JJ held the laptop that showed Emily's position. They were five miles back and the signal was still strong. Hotch was driving, having displaced Morgan at the last moment, and was gripping the wheel so hard his knuckles were white. It took everything he had to not floor it until his car was right behind Emily's, making sure she was alright.

"Hey guys," her voice came through the radio receiver loud and clear. "Now that I'm alone and none of you can interrupt me," which was true, since she wasn't wearing an earpiece. She was supposed to be alone, after all. "I want to tell you how sorry I am that you all got dragged into this. This was a battle between me and Ian that's gone way beyond what it was ever supposed to. I'm sorry I kept it from you, I'm sorry I lied to you." She took a breath. "It means...so much that you're willing to back me up tonight. And whether you're doing it for me, for Anna, or because Hotch ordered you to, I appreciate it." Her voice was getting thick, something that they'd never heard from her before and it unnerved them all. "Whatever happens tonight, you save yourselves first. I realize that I'm in no position to ask you for anything else but if something were to happen to one of you..." her voice trailed off. "I'm here," she said suddenly. "I love you guys." And that was that.

Hotch parked the SUV next to the curb about a mile away from the warehouse. It was as close as Morgan let him get. He kept the keys in the ignition, ready to drive the car through the perimeter at the first sign that something was going wrong. They watched, from Emily's view, her walk into the warehouse, gun drawn and held out in front of her. The lights were already on but the only sound they heard was her steady breathing as she inspected the apparently empty warehouse.

Morgan surveyed the street from where he was sitting. The tactical team was holed up inside an abandoned building across the street and a ways down from where Emily was. As far as he knew, they hadn't been detected. Their mobile surveillance teams were randomly spaced, forming a perimeter around the area. They'd arrived sporadically throughout the evening so as to not attract too much attention and still seemed to be pretty inconspicuous. Morgan had deliberately left the local QPD officers out of the way but saw a trio of ambulances parked out of sight down an alley. He really hoped they wouldn't be needed.

"Ian?" Emily called out, drawing Morgan's attention back to the video feed. "Anna?"

"Did you really think they'd be here?" a voice sneered. Liam stepped through a doorway at the back of the warehouse with his gun pointed at Emily.

"No," Emily admitted. "Where are they?"

"He sent me here to get you. I'll take you to them. Put your gun down."

Emily laughed. "Not a chance, Liam."

He smiled too, and lowered his gun, still walking closer. "You look good for a dead woman, Emily. Your sister though...not looking so great right now," he taunted, tucking his gun into the back of his waistband. He was less than ten feet from her now and her weapon was pointed straight at his face.

"Where is she?" Emily asked again.

"The only way for you to find that out is to put down the gun and come with me."

"How do I know she's still alive?" she spat, though it pained her to even think of that possibility.

Liam reached into his pocket and Emily tensed. "Relax, it's a phone," he told her. He dialed a number and Emily heard a man's muffled voice crackle through the speaker.

"Yeah she's here," he said, his eyes on Emily. "Well, there's a gun pointed at my face that won't go away until she knows her sister's okay," he said next, waiting a beat before speaking again. "I'm not that stupid, I've seen her shoot. She doesn't miss," he protested into the phone. He pressed the phone to his chest and spoke to Emily. "Give me a question for your sister," he ordered.

"Tell him to ask her about the tattoos," Emily said, giving the first thing that popped into her head. Only she and Anna knew what those meant. Liam relayed the question and held the phone out to Emily so she could hear the response. She heard a man's voice pose the question to Anna.

"I'm not telling you shit," she spat. Emily heard a loud thud and Anna's moan of pain. The man asked her again and Emily heard him say something else she couldn't make out.

"Nicknames," Anna finally said. "Emily always called me Anna Banana growing up. Her favorite poet is Emily Dickinson and her middle name is Hope. It was an inside joke that hope, meaning her, was a thing with feathers. The tattoos spell 'Banana Feathers'."

Liam hung up. "Satisfied?" he asked. In response, Emily bent down and set her weapon on the ground. At Liam's instruction, she kicked away from herself.

"Vest off," he told her.

"Emily don't you dare," Morgan said in the SUV, forced to watch in exasperation as she undid the Velcro straps and lifted it over her head.

"Shirt off," he said next, struggling to maintain what little professionalism he thought he had. Emily complied, unbuttoning her top and shrugging her arms out of it. She held it out to the side and made a full circle so Liam could see that she wasn't wired. "Now that's what I call a battle wound," he laughed. She dropped her hand instinctively to the mess of flesh and scar tissue that used to be smooth skin.

"Satisfied?" she shot at him, slipping her shirt back on.

"You're alone?"

"Obviously," she sneered.

"FBI!" she heard a shout from the back doorway where Liam had come in. Emily didn't have time to react before a couple of flash bangs were thrown in her direction and their concussive impact sent her slamming to the ground. She looked up and saw hazy figures rushing toward her, guns drawn. Shots rang through the air from both sides and she became aware of figures on either side of her, helping her to her feet. She protested until she saw their blue uniforms; they were medics. They crouched next to her, shielding her from the flying bullets.

"Ms. Prentiss, can you walk?" She nodded and allowed them to guide her out the back door. Instead of leading outside like she thought it would it led to a staircase. "The back door is this way," one of them told her. She was still having trouble focusing and so they pulled her along the hallway at the bottom of the stairs. The sounds of the gunfire upstairs couldn't be heard anymore. Finally she felt a breeze of fresh air hit her face and she felt herself being lifted and set down on something soft. A stretcher.

"No," she protested, gaining some of her awareness back. "No, I have to go back and talk to him; this wasn't supposed to happen this way." She pushed the medics' hands away from her and tried to stand up, only to be pushed back down. "You can go in just a minute," one of the medics promised her. "They've got Liam in custody; let us check you out real quick." The other held an oxygen mask to her face and persuaded her to take a few deep breaths. She felt herself start to relax and she sat back against the gurney. Her eyes slipped closed and the medic removed the mask from her face. She felt tightening pressure on her ankles and then on her hips. With a start, she realized why the air from that mask had calmed her down so fast. She sat up and came face to face with Liam, who was clearly not in FBI custody. Her mind was foggy and she couldn't string her words together, a combination of the concussion caused by the flash bang and the drugged air they'd just made her breathe. "No," she protested, even as she felt her arms get pulled behind her back and the cuffs clicked into place. A pair of hands on her shoulders forced her to lean back as the other pair finished strapping her down.

"Let's go," Liam ordered. "We don't have time to stick around." He shoved the stretcher into the ambulance, climbed in next to Emily, and pulled the doors shut. Sirens blaring, the ambulance sped away from the confusion in the warehouse.

* * *

"What the hell happened?" Morgan yelled at the commander of the tactical team less than ten minutes later. As soon as he'd heard the shouting on the video receiver, Hotch had driven their SUV straight through the doors of the warehouse, bypassing the tactical team that was rushing in at the same time. Agents had swarmed the warehouse and it had taken this long to figure out that Liam was gone. "Who the hell gave the command to go in?"

"It wasn't me, sir. And it wasn't my men. They're all accounted for. Must have been someone on your end."

Morgan had dismissed him angrily and stalked around until he'd spoken with every pair of mobile surveillance officers and determined that none of them had breached the perimeter either. He made his way back to where Hotch and the others were standing.

"Well?" Hotch asked expectantly.

Morgan shook his head and sighed. "None of our guys breached, Hotch. I don't know what happened." He looked around. "Any casualties?"

Rossi shook his head. "We got lucky."

"Lucky that none of our guys shot each other, apparently," Morgan spat. "Where's Emily?"

"The paramedics are checking her out," Reid reported. "One of the tactical guys saw them helping her out."

"Which way?" Morgan asked, not having seen them exit through the front. "This building only has one entrance." He was cut off by the incessant beeping of his cell phone.

"What is the point of having a cell phone if you never answer it?" Garcia yelled through the phone. "I have been trying to get a hold of every single one of you for the last ten minutes! You switched off my channel and onto the tactical one, so it took me a second to realize that you weren't just ignoring my frantic yelling about what was going on."

"Garcia, I'm sorry," Morgan said. "Everything just went to hell. And what about those floor plans you gave us? One entrance? Reid just said that the medics took Emily out the back..."

"The same place the FBI supposedly breached," JJ said, sprinting for the door.

"Hang on, Garcia," Morgan said, ignoring the new set of shouts his request elicited. JJ flew down the stairs and down the hall, ignoring the drops of blood that stood out against the stark surface of the floor. Once the team made it outside, it was clear that there were no medics and no ambulance and no Emily.

"Damn it!" Morgan yelled, running his hands over his head.

"It was a diversion," JJ concluded. "They knew we were here, or that we were close. They confused us long enough to get away."

"And there were ambulances all over the place," Morgan said. "None of the tactical guys knew the details of Anna's abduction. I didn't even think about it until now."

"Derek Morgan if you don't answer me in the next five seconds I will unleash an unholy virus on your personal computer that will empty your bank accounts and immediately leak the those photos of you in leather chaps to every single damn person in your contact list-" Garcia was yelling mercilessly.

"Baby Girl, stop." Morgan said. "Emily's gone. We lost her."

"Uh, yeah, that's what I've been trying to tell you, dimwit," she snarled. "When you so intelligently switched your com signals and decided not to answer your phones you gave me no way to tell you that Emily was rushed out the door by two jokers in EMS uniforms and that giant Liam guy."

"Where are they now, Garcia?"

"Well, I could tell you if you'd listened to me ten minutes ago and hadn't let them get more than ten miles out of range," her voice was thick now. "She's in an ambulance; that's all I can tell from the video footage. I'll tell you more as I know it. And you better answer your phones." She disconnected the call leaving the remaining members of the BAU team standing in self-loathing silence.


	21. Chapter 21

**Sorry for the slow update; it's been a long few days! Let me know what you think : )**

* * *

"They've stopped," Garcia reported nearly an hour later. The team was back at BAU headquarters with an extreme lack of anything better to do. They'd sat watching footage from Emily's necklace cam; Garcia and Reid were trying to piece together some sort of route based off what they could see out the back window of the ambulance. It was slow going and extremely disheartening. They couldn't even tell if Emily was awake or unconscious; they knew she was immobile but Morgan insisted that if she was okay, she would have signaled it in some way.

He and Hotch blamed themselves, that much was apparent. Morgan for coming up with the tactical plan in the first place and Hotch for agreeing to it. No well-meaning words issued from the ever-calm JJ could help, nor could Rossi's silent and wise stares of reassurance. Reid's only solace was that he was keeping busy while Garcia's annoyance and anger were leaking out through her increasing desperation. In all, the mood was somber. Hushed conversations had taken place, empty reassurances that Emily had faced Doyle once before and had made it out alive were offered, but they didn't do much to ease the tension. At Garcia's words, silence fell as they did the only things they could: watched and listened.

Liam leaned into the frame and undid the straps binding Emily to the gurney. "Get up," he told her, pushing the doors open. The camera angle shifted and an unconscious sigh of relief went through the room. That answered that question.

"Where are we?" she asked him as he gripped her upper arm painfully.

"Shut up," he told her, sounding bored. He steered her across what looked like a large parking lot and toward a warehouse. She'd hoped for some kind of address on the side, but no luck. She heard waves crashing nearby and looked around hopefully: were they near a beach? Were there people close by, watching them? There weren't, she figured out quickly. She couldn't actually see the waves; the warehouse blocked her view of it, but they were close. She hoped the little camera sequestered in her necklace was doing its job.

It was. Garcia and Reid flew into action, using the drive time and the sounds of the ocean to map probable locations. Garcia tried to track down abandoned shipping warehouses but stopped when she realized what Reid already had; they could be anywhere in a span of nearly 150 miles of coastline.

Liam slid the door in front of her open and she took in her surroundings. Judging by the smell, the place hadn't been used in a while, except for Doyle's activity. It was like a scene from a bad action movie; the entryway held a few couches, tables, and chairs on which a dozen bored looking men were drinking, smoking, playing cards, and watching a battered television in the corner. They looked up at her entrance and then dropped their attention back to what was clearly their priority. Large wooden crates were scattered throughout the room and Emily had enough experience to know that they held weapons. Each of the groupings held a different weapon and though the boxes weren't marked, Emily knew Doyle well enough to guess what they held. She could see a door leading to another room directly across from where she was standing now. More crates were scattered there and the room was filled with light from large windows near the ceiling. She could see old metal walkways suspended nearly a hundred feet in the air, likely not used since supervisors walked across them and yelled at their overworked employees to pack boxes faster. Her brain was working in overdrive, planning escape routes, calculating which weapons she could get to the fastest and which of the men, judging from the number of empty bottles next to them, she could take out first when a prolonged scream pierced her thoughts. She looked around wildly, searching for the source, her heart pounding because she knew that it had to have come from Anna and because she'd never heard her sister make a sound like that before.

Liam laughed softly in her ear. "Come on," he pulled her along behind him and she stumbled, not expecting the sudden movement. She righted herself and didn't fight him as they walked to the other end of the warehouse. Another yell sent Emily's heartbeat into overdrive and shattered the silence that had fallen on the conference room at Quantico. Emily wanted to charge ahead of Liam, sprint to the door he was taking her to, wrench it open, and beat Ian Doyle until he stopped moving. But she couldn't; and she was forced to move at what seemed like an agonizingly slow pace until finally they were standing outside the door. Liam rolled it open and Emily saw a vast empty space ahead of her punctured only by two figures about thirty feet in front of her.

Anna was standing on the balls of her feet facing away from Emily, her arms stretched above her head, cuffed and fastened to a long chain hanging from the rafters. Her tank top was rolled up to her chest, exposing her toned stomach and lower back, which were marked with bruises and angry red welts. And then there was Doyle, staring over Anna's shoulder to the now-open door with a self-satisfied look on his face. He held what looked to be a cattle prod in his hand, a long black contraption that was currently pointed at the floor. Emily swallowed hard; this was never supposed to happen.

Doyle winked at her and Emily started to walk toward him only to be pulled back by Liam who maintained is strong grip on her arm. He pulled her over to the wall instead and hooked the chain of her handcuffs to another chain that was bolted to the wall. He pulled on it a few times to make sure it was secure and, once he was satisfied, he left. Not willing to give up that easily, Emily jerked forward but the chains held fast. Doyle walked behind Anna and pressed his finger to his lips telling her to be quiet.

"Where's Declan?" he asked Anna softly, leaning his head over her shoulder and talking directly into her ear. She didn't answer and he stabbed the cattle prod to her ribs. She jerked away from it and let out a strangled yell through tightly clenched teeth. "Go to hell," she hissed.

"You first," he threatened, drawing back and swinging the cattle prod like a baseball bat at Anna's stomach. She gasped as the wind was knocked out of her and struggled to regain her breath. "I wish you'd reconsider your position," he told her conversationally. "And I think I may have finally found the right motivation. Focus now, Anna, this is important." He grabbed her waist and spun her around so that she was facing Emily, whose heart broke when Doyle stepped aside and she saw the full extent of what Anna had been through in the past day and a half. The bruises and electrical burns were more pronounced up close, and there were more cuts and bruises on her face. Her head was slumped forward and her eyes were closed. Garcia's eyes filled with tears at the sight of her and it was all Morgan could do to not break the table in half with a well-placed punch. He felt JJ's hand on his shoulder and shook his head, trying to focus.

Emily met Ian's cold stare with one of her own. "This is between you and me," she said quietly.

"It was. But I'm not the one that got her involved, luv. That was all you." He walked towards her, reached his arm out and tenderly tucked a few strands of hair behind Emily's ear and for just a second there was a flash of something other than anger in his eyes. Rossi's eyes went to Hotch, who simply straightened up and kept his eyes on the television screen, effectively hiding any emotion he was feeling. Big surprise.

"You look well, especially considering you're dead," he told her. "You can get her to tell me where Declan is."

"Why would I do that?"

He stepped away from her and towards Anna. "Look who's here," Doyle told Anna, taunting her. She opened her eyes a crack, barely acknowledging Emily before closing them again. Doyle slapped her cheek lightly a few times. "Wake up, sunshine." Anna obliged again, this time forcing her head up as well. Her eyes honed in on Emily's face and then narrowed.

"So it's true," she accused, her voice laced with pain and exhaustion.

Doyle didn't give Emily a chance to respond.

"Where is my son?" Ian asked slowly, enunciating every word. When she didn't answer, he spun around and punched Emily in the stomach. She doubled over and would have fallen if not for the chains holding her up.

"Where's Declan?" he asked again, still facing Emily. She shook her head at Anna.

"I can take it," she said quietly, but firmly.

"Can you?" Doyle asked, hitting her again and again until she fell to her knees. Anna looked on in dismay but kept her mouth shut. Panting, Doyle finally straightened up and looked down at Emily in disgust.

"You know Anna, in North Korea, they're too poor to afford ink." He walked away from Emily and to a far corner of the room and when Emily heard the sound of a rolling cart her heart sped up. Classical conditioning at its best. He stopped the cart right between Anna and Emily and flipped a switch. It hummed to life and they could all see the glowing red tip of the metal rod Doyle had used to brand Emily. "So they brand themselves instead." He stepped closer to her and ran a finger along the tattoo on her ribs. Goosebumps rose at his touch and she shivered.

"Is this your only tattoo? Not that it really matters." He pulled a chair over and sat down, ignoring Emily completely. He scooted close to Anna and wrapped one arm around her waist, pulling her close to him. He picked up a thick black marker and sketched a clover on her right hipbone. He threw a glance over his shoulder at a horrified Emily. "I learned my lesson last time. If you mark the skin first, the heat sears the ink into the skin. She'll have a much clearer picture than you do." He set down the marker, picked up the branding iron and pressed it to Anna's right hipbone. She hissed in pain and threw her head back. He withdrew the white-hot iron and looked up at her. "Where's Declan?"

"Ian, don't!" Emily shouted at him.

"Don't worry, luv. You're next," he soothed mockingly. Emily raised her head and met Anna's eye; though she was breathing hard there was no fear there.

"This is your last chance!" Doyle yelled at her.

She kept her eyes locked on Emily and Morgan felt like she was looking right at him. "Bring it." She curled her hands into fists and braced herself.

"Tell him," Emily said quickly. Ian paused, the iron less than a centimeter away from Anna's skin. She looked at Emily incredulously.

"You're joking," she said.

Emily shook her head vehemently. "I'm not. Tell him."

"No way in hell, Emily," Anna said angrily.

"Damn it, Anna, tell him."

"I'm not telling him anything," Anna insisted.

"Then tell me. Make this my burden, not yours," Emily pleaded.

"As soon as I tell him anything, he'll kill both of us," she insisted weakly.

"No. You'll tell me, then he'll let you go."

"Not likely, Emily," Doyle spoke up. "You're not getting off that easily."

"Ian," Emily said quietly, almost tenderly. "Ian, please. Let Anna tell me where Declan is. Let her go in return, and I'll tell you, and then you can do whatever you want to me."

"What makes you think she'll tell you? She's more stubborn than you are, if that's possible," Ian half-joked, but the longing was there now; his desire to find Declan was taking over.

"I can get her to tell me. But she won't tell me anything if you're around. Give me a half hour alone with her. And then you can go get Declan."

"Why? Why, after all you've done, would you sacrifice him now?"

"Because Anna's life is at stake, and her life is more important to me than Declan's."

Doyle flipped the switch on the branding iron again and Anna felt it cool. He stood and turned away from her. "And that, darling, is what makes you such a cold-hearted bitch. Thirty minutes." He strode out of the room and slammed the door shut behind him, locking it for good measure.

Emily let out a relieved breath once they were alone and turned her attention back to Anna, whose eyes were narrowed ever so slightly in her direction.

"You have every right to be mad," Emily started.

"You do realize that this means I owe Reid five hundred dollars, right?"

Emily was taken aback and her planned apology flew straight out of her head. "I-what?"

"I bet Reid ages ago that the zombie apocalypse wouldn't happen. I told him he watched too many sci-fi movies but he was convinced. And now that you're apparently back from the dead, I'm guessing he's going to collect."

"I'll pay you back," Emily promised.

"You better believe you will," Anna told her. "I'll hold you to it. Provided we both make it out of here alive. I'm assuming you have a plan, judging by the whole 'she trusts me, Ian, she'll tell me and then I'll tell you and we'll live happily ever after' story you were spinning a few minutes ago."

Emily huffed. "I thought I was a better actress than that," she joked. "But yes, I have a plan." She held her arms in front of her, free of the cuffs that had restrained her only minutes ago.

"Is that a new personal best?"

"Might be. I had a lot of time in Paris."

"I'm sure," she shifted uncomfortably. "Want to share the wealth? My hands kind of miss their normal amount of blood flow."

Emily obliged, picking the cuffs on Anna's wrists with the same pin that had been concealed in the back pocket of her jeans until she'd dug it out moments earlier. When she was free, Emily gingerly wrapped her arms around Anna and held her close, not wanting to exacerbate any of her injuries. Anna buried her face in Emily's neck.

"All joking aside, it's really good to see you," she whispered, burying her tears in Emily's hair.

"All joking aside, it's really good to be here," Emily responded, giving her sister a squeeze. Emily pulled back first, ever cognizant of the position they were in. Anna stepped back too, but swayed on her feet and Emily pulled her close again and guided her over to the wall. Anna walked stiffly, her leg muscles cramped from standing on tiptoe for so long. With Emily's help, she laid down on the cold concrete floor and closed her eyes as the cool surface soothed the aches on her back. A long, slow breath passed through her lips.

"Where are you hurt?" Emily asked.

"Who's hurt?" Anna whispered, trying unsuccessfully to joke. She cracked an eye and saw Emily's un-laughing face. "Ribs maybe, a few of them might be cracked. Pretty sure my left foot is broken in a few places."

Emily's eyes traveled to the foot in question; it wasn't overly swollen, but there was a large circular bruise on the top of it. "What happened?" she asked, half wanting to skip the question altogether and move on.

"Hammer," Anna told her and Emily fumed. "Hey, calm down," Anna told her, reaching a shaking hand toward hers. She gripped as tight as she could. "This isn't your fault."

"The hell it's not," Emily argued.

"Listen, I'm the one who told him that Declan was alive. Not you. Although now I really regret doing that."

"Why did you?"

"I have no idea. No, yes I do. I didn't know why I was here, why he'd come after me again. At first I thought it was because he knew already. When I realized that wasn't the case, I knew he was going after someone else and that seemed to be the best way to stall him. He was so insistent that you were alive, and I wanted you to have time to get away again."

"But when I got here, you were surprised."

"I was."

"So who did you think he was going after?"

"Your old team. Derek. We're not what we used to be, but that wouldn't have stopped him."

"What happened between the two of you?"

"I'm pretty sure I broke his nose the day of your funeral."

Emily laughed in spite of herself. "Why?"

"Because he was being an ass."

"About what?"

"About you. And Doyle. He was angry. I was angry that he was angry. And I just...I don't know. I couldn't handle it. So I left," she summed up, leaving Morgan's heart aching for her more than ever.

"You'll get past it. If I know Derek Morgan, he's nothing if not persistent. He's not going to let you go that easily."

"I know." She took a deep breath. "Listen, Emily-"

"No. Don't even start with me," she said hastily.

"Will you listen? I just want you to promise that if something happens-"

"Anna, don't even think like that. We're both getting out of here. I won't let him hurt you again."

"Emily! God, will you just listen?"

"No. You know I don't do mushy."

"Fine. If I die, tell Derek that I'm sorry I broke his nose and that he can take the cost of any medical expenses out of my estate. Happy?"

Emily laughed again. "Have I ever told you that you're extremely blunt?"

"Have I ever told you that you're exceedingly confident?"

Emily smirked. "What do you say we get out of here?"

"I'm game." No sooner had she said the words that they heard footsteps approaching. The door to the room slid open and Emily checked her watch. It hadn't been more than ten minutes. She crouched next to Anna as the footsteps approached and Emily saw that there were two of them, too engrossed in the conversation to immediately notice that their prisoners weren't where they were supposed to be.

Emily leapt out at them and tackled one, ramming his head to the floor while simultaneously kicking the other in the gut. She got to her feet and aimed a few well-placed jabs at his face and neck, driving him toward the far wall. One last shot sent him reeling and he fell to the floor unconscious.

Suddenly, there was an immense amount of pressure on her neck and she clawed at the steel arm of the first man who only tightened his hold on her. Emily flailed and kicked but couldn't get free. As black spots started to creep in on her vision, she heard him shout and he let her go. She stepped away from him, breathing hard and massaging her neck.

Anna had grabbed the cattle prod that Doyle had left lying next to the branding cart and hit the man over the head with it. Now that Emily was away from him, she stabbed it to his neck and sent hundreds of volts jolting throughout his body. He fell to his knees, teeth clenched, and she kept the pressure on until he too was on the ground and not moving. She straightened up, one hand holding her injured ribs, the other still wielding the cattle prod. With pure hate in her eyes she pressed it to his torso, watching his body convulse until Emily grabbed her wrist.

"I think he gets the point."

"I just wanted to make sure," she smirked. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," Emily said hoarsely. "You?"

"Never better. You were saying?"

"I was saying that I'm going to try to make it to the other room. I saw crates of weapons in there when I was brought in and that would give us an advantage."

"And where am I in all this?"

"You're already armed," she indicated the unconscious men on the floor. "Take those and duck behind the cart. Shoot anything that's not me."

"You're not leaving me here," Anna insisted.

"Anna-" Emily began, in the tone that meant she was going to try to be logical.

"Emily. You may be the only one of the two of us that has been stabbed in the stomach by a psychopathic arms dealer that had the good fortune to be wielding a severed table leg-" she broke off laughing. "Sorry, I know that had to hurt, but have you thought about how ridiculous that sounds? You are the only person that would happen to. And I thought you went through your vampire phase in high school," she teased.

Emily shook her head and bit back a laugh. "You're crazy."

"I know. And I'm also not staying behind while you risk your life trying to save mine."

Her look was such that Emily bent down and unholstered the weapons of both men, handing one to Anna. "You know how to use it?"

Anna popped the magazine out, checked it, and reloaded it in one fluid motion. "Point and shoot." She caught Emily's unamused eye. "Yes, Emily, I know how to use it," she said, exasperated. "Now come on, you have until my adrenaline rush ends and I start feeling pain again to get us out of here. Stop wasting time."

She followed Emily to the door, where they paused. Emily poked her head out and focused on the door that was too far to be easy to get to. She counted nine men, including Doyle, in the main area, all armed. Their best bet was to run as far and fast as they could to where the weapons crates were grouped and then dart backwards from there, taking cover whenever possible. The door to the other room looked to be the same as the one they were in now, which meant that it also locked from the inside. Once they had weapons, they could defend themselves as the men came through the door. She communicated this to Anna, who nodded once.

"I love you," Emily told her.

"I love you too."


	22. Chapter 22

"Don't do it," Morgan muttered uselessly. "Damn it Prentiss, don't you dare."

"Are you talking to Emily or Anna?" Rossi asked.

"Either. Both. Whichever one will listen."

"I don't think it's going to make much difference," JJ said softly, watching as the camera feed started bouncing around.

They made it ten feet before the shooting started. Emily led the way, running in a half-crouch, ducking the bullets that whizzed past her and firing whenever she had a shot. She nailed one of the men with a shot to the neck; eight to go. Her success was short-lived; she felt a searing pain pierce her shoulder and the force of it sent her crumpling to the ground. She looked up and saw Doyle lower his gun, triumph written all over his face. She pressed her left hand to her right shoulder, trying to stem the blood that was pumping out of the through and through wound there. Emily used her feet to push herself back and to the side, leaving a trail of blood indicating the path she took to shelter behind one of the crates. The team heard her labored breathing and knew she was in bad shape already. Her necklace had slipped down to the side of her neck, and they were getting a sideways view of the blood pool that was growing on the ground. Another shot rang out and Emily felt the bullet pass through her leg. She let out a cry of anguish and clasped her thigh between her hands.

"You should have known better, Emily," Doyle taunted, lowering his gun. "You never had a chance. And now you'll never get one." He aimed his weapon at Emily's head but shots erupted from behind them. Anna had popped her head up over the crate and was shooting straight at Doyle. The shots went wild and hit nothing but they served their purpose; Doyle backed off and his men were now the ones hastily creating barriers between them and the bullets. They opened fire again and Anna ducked back down. She checked her magazine and noted that she was nearly out of bullets. She hit her head against the crate in desperation and it came to her like something out of a movie. She banged her gun against the lock several times and broke it. Ignoring the fire she was taking, she reached her hand up and through the lid, grabbing the first thing she touched. The weapon was enormous, some kind of machine gun, though she had no clue of anything more than that. By its weight, she assumed it was loaded and decided to test that theory. She lifted it above the crate and sprayed the room with a sheet of bullets, hitting two of Doyle's unsuspecting men, one in the arm and one in the chest. She held the trigger until the gun emptied; counting how many seconds it took to exhaust the bullets.

Emily jumped at the shots and craned her head around to see where they were coming from, hoping that her team had just burst through the door. But before she could locate the source, they stopped. One by one, Doyle's men stood again and opened fire, firing over her and toward where Anna must have been sequestered. Rapid shots pierced the air again and this time Emily saw Anna running toward her, firing a machine gun of all things toward their enemies; she wasn't bothering to aim but was focused on Emily as she grabbed her uninjured arm and pulled her backwards across the floor toward the other room. Her weapon emptied with five feet to go, so she chucked it and grabbed Emily's arm with both hands and heaved. Once they were inside the door, Anna let go and rolled the door shut, locking it. She heard bullets plinking against the steel door but they did nothing.

The bullets stopped, leaving them with only the sounds of their heavy breathing. Emily was lying where Anna had left her while Anna herself had slumped back against the wall.

"Jeez Emily. Next time you're in Paris, lay off the croissants," she muttered, crawling over to her sister and pressing one hand to the wound on her shoulder and the other to the wound on her leg.

"They were the only thing that made Paris bearable," Emily joked half-heartedly. She swatted Anna's hands away. "Let me see them." Anna obliged and Emily took inventory. The bullet in her leg had missed the femoral artery, which was good. That gave her some time. Her mind clicked back into tactical mode and she felt the pain fading as her brain blocked it out so she could focus completely on their defensive situation. Compartmentalization at its finest.

"We need to move away from the door," Emily told Anna. She gestured toward a large crate that about fifty feet from the door and would offer some cover.

"You just want a piggy back ride," Anna pouted. But she slid one hand behind Emily's legs and another around her shoulders and lifted her, cradling her like a child. Emily had forgotten how strong she was; gymnastics had given her excessive muscle tone and it didn't feel like she'd lost a bit of it. Anna set Emily down so that her back was leaning against the wood and sat gingerly next to her. The mode of her movement was different than her normal limp and it drew Emily's attention to where Anna's blood-covered hand was placed on the outside of her left leg. "Move your hand," she commanded.

"It's your blood," Anna told her.

"Move it."

"Why?"

"Just do it."

"You're obnoxious, you know that?" Anna lifted her hand so Emily could see the three-inch long wound underneath. "It's just a graze. It doesn't even hurt."

"You don't feel pain like normal people. Someone could cut off your foot and you'd still go running the next day."

"You're exaggerating."

"Says the girl that broke her ankle and still completed all of her routines flawlessly at the Olympic trials."

Anna's retort was cut off Doyle's voice shouting from outside.

"You can't hide forever, girls. And there's no way out of there except through this door. We'll be waiting."

"What does he think is going to happen when he barges in here?" Anna asked.

"He thinks he'll use me to get you to tell him where Declan is."

Anna thought for a second. "I think I know the answer to this, but I just want to make sure we're on the same page...you don't want me to tell him, right? No matter what he does to you?"

"Don't tell him a thing. We've come too far to let him get to Declan now," Emily said adamantly.

"That's what I thought." She was quiet again. "He misses you, you know." Emily didn't answer. "He was crushed when he found out you'd been killed."

"You told him?"

"It was the first time I showed up without one of your letters. He knew something was up."

"I never meant to hurt him."

"He'll know that. He knows everything you've done for him. He loves you, Emily, and this isn't going to change anything."

"What's he like?" It wasn't the first time she'd asked this question but Anna knew to expect it. As a profiler, Emily had seen kids who'd grown up to be exactly like their twisted parents and she didn't want that to happen to Declan.

"He's a typical fourteen-year old boy, Em. Blonde still, but he's taller than me already. Close to your height, actually. He gets good grades, he has good friends, and he's a sweetheart." That was all Anna ever said, in the interest of giving nothing away to anyone that might be listening.

Emily's mind was in a faraway place, envisioning Declan as she saw him. "I want to see him."

The emotion in her voice pulled at Hotch's heart. He knew Emily had a soft spot for kids and realized that this was where it all came from. In all the child victims they interviewed, she saw Declan and the tenderness she felt for him translated into her compassion for those other kids.

"Then start planning. You're the trained spy, not me. You have the best training in the world so put it to use. And you have something to live for, so go after it," Anna encouraged.

Emily took in their surroundings for the first time. This room was much like the others; a vast empty space that looked like it might have been used as an assembly room. There were large windows near the ceiling and there were walkways that criss-crossed each other and spanned the length of the room in both directions. A few chains that must have been used to hoist equipment hung down from the ceiling about twenty feet off the floor. There was a door on one side of the room that Emily guessed hid a staircase that granted access to the walkways. If they could get up there, they'd have a sniper's position. More importantly, she noted a dilapidated phone mounted on the wall.

"Check that door," she told Anna, who did so.

"It's locked," she reported, pulling her gun from the waistband of her pants and aiming it at the doorknob.

"Wait," Emily told her. "Use that as a last resort. We're going to need every bullet we can get." Anna tucked the gun away and looked up at the ceiling, inspiration striking as she noted the one thing that could help her get up to the phone. Whether or not it would work she had no clue, but it was worth a shot.

"I know how to get up there," she said, pacing now.

"How?"

"I'm going to wing it," she said, backing up to the far side of the room with her eyes locked on a thin bar that was raised ten feet from the floor. She shoved one of the crates so that it was directly underneath it and clambered on top of it.

"You're not serious," Emily said. Anna swung her arms back and jumped, latching firmly onto the bar with both hands and swinging side to side both to adjust her grip and test its strength. "Or maybe you are."

Anna ignored her and pulled her legs up in front of her, using their downward momentum to push herself up so that her arms were locked straight, as though she were getting out of a pool. She hoisted herself on top of the bar and set her sights on the next one, five feet in front of her and six feet higher than the one she was standing on. She leapt and grabbed onto it, repeating the movement so that she was again on top of the bar.

"And the Ambassador said gymnastics wasn't a practical sport," Anna muttered.

"Did she really?" Emily asked, not having heard the story before. "When?"

"After my first class."

"You were four."

"Yeah. She said that gymnastics wasn't a practical hobby for a young lady to have, as it was frivolous and would do nothing to help me achieve my goals later in life," Anna imitated in a nearly perfect rendition of her mother. Hotch smirked despite himself, remembering his own distaste for the Ambassador's way of speaking.

"That's ridiculous."

"Yeah, well, how old were you when she forbade you from watching Disney movies?"

"Seven," Emily recalled. "She felt they gave young girls unrealistic expectations about the need to rely on a man in life and offered an overly glorified interpretation of a romantic courtship."

Anna snorted. "That sounds like her."

"Good thing we never listened to a word she said."

"Damn straight," Anna said. She was focused now on the chain that dangled only a few feet in front of and above her. She jumped, grasping it with both hands and letting it lose its swinging momentum before she started climbing. Hand over hand she went, pausing often because even she couldn't entirely ignore the pain her actions were causing.

"You're a monkey, you know that?" Emily asked.

"I've been told," Anna huffed, finally reaching the top and swinging herself onto the metal walkway. She lay on her back for a minute, waiting for her heartbeat to get back to normal and to give her body a break.

"Phone," she said to herself, grasping the handrail and hoisting herself up. She pressed the receiver to her ear, praying for a dial tone and getting pleasantly surprised when she got one. She would have thought the phone lines would have been long out of service. She dialed Morgan's number without thinking and he answered on the first ring, having grabbed it as soon as she started dialing.

"Are you okay?"

"How do you know who this is?" Anna joked.

"I'm an FBI agent. I know everything."

"Then you know how to trace a phone call."

"Garcia's on it."

"How's Emily?" Hotch interjected.

They saw Anna glance down at her. "Stubborn. But get here fast anyway."

"You know it," Morgan promised. "Hang in there." The team was already halfway to the garage, having left Garcia with her promise to send the address to their phones. Derek's phone pinged less than a minute later and he saw an address only twenty minutes away.

"Son of a bitch," he muttered. Doyle had duped them; he must have known they were tracking her somehow, so he'd driven Emily around for a while to make them think she was out of range. They could have been searching the area this whole time, waiting for the signal from her GPS to re-activate. With a squeal of tires, they tore out of the garage and toward the warehouse that would be the scene of their final showdown.

He made the drive in ten minutes, the blaring sirens forcing traffic out of the way as Reid clung to the armrest for dear life. JJ called in for backup and vests were strapped on all around. Morgan didn't feel the need to lay out a tactical entry plan; they were going to go in and shoot anything male, moving or not.

The SUV screeched to a halt and they recognized the building from what they'd seen on Emily's necklace camera. They could hear the gunfire from inside. Hotch and Morgan peeked through the door and noted that there were seven armed men, including Doyle, huddled around the door. That wouldn't last long. Rossi took the first shot, knocking one of the men off his feet and alerting everyone else to their presence. Half the men turned and opened fire on the team, who dodged bullets and returned fire. Morgan had been so focused on the immediate obstacles that he hadn't noticed Liam and Doyle dart across his line of vision until they darted back, carrying a long box. Morgan's attention was diverted again and he had to dive to the ground to avoid being hit. When he came back up, he saw with a sinking feeling that Liam had a grenade launcher resting on his shoulder. With the amount of weapons sequestered in the building, the impact of Liam's shot could end up killing them all with successive explosions. Barreling past the gunfire, he slammed into Liam just as he pulled the trigger and an explosion racked the building.


	23. Chapter 23

Anna let the phone dangle and jogged to the staircase. She wrenched the door open and descended, stopping when she heard a blast and Emily's voice yell. She ran back up the stairs and saw smoke over by where the entrance to the room used to be. Doyle's men had blasted the door and were using smoke to conceal their movements. Anna located Emily, who was still huddled behind the crate. She was moving and didn't appear to be any more injured than she'd been before but one of Doyle's men was advancing on her and she didn't know. Anna took the shot and the man went down. She hurriedly checked her magazine, cursing herself for not grabbing another gun before she'd climbed all the way up here. She had six shots left and would have to make them count.

Below her, Emily was coughing smoke out of her lungs and checking her weapon as well. While Anna had been on the phone, she'd rifled through the crate nearest her and stockpiled a good-sized pile of guns. She would need them now. She had to fire with her left arm, which was difficult but not impossible thanks to Morgan, who had insisted she train on both. She used that training now, shooting when she could and ducking when she had to. Her injured leg refused to bear weight, so she had to shoot leaning against the crate for support, which seriously impaired her movement. The men had retreated, but were using the strong walls of the room as cover and shooting through the doorway. Emily didn't have a clear shot and they were locked in a stalemate until one of them put themselves in the open. The shooting stopped abruptly and Emily looked up to check on Anna, who was holding her gun outstretched, waiting for the next onslaught. Emily caught her eye and motioned for Anna to come down. If Anna could open the door, Emily could get the weapons and herself up there and have a better vantage point to shoot from.

As Anna headed toward the stairs, Emily heard new gunfire coming from outside the door. She risked a peek around the crate and saw that they were shooting away from her, toward the entrance to the warehouse. Her heart soared as she realized the team had found them at last and she sunk down behind the crate out of relief. When she made it back to her feet her skin chilled; Liam and Doyle were standing in the doorway and Liam was aiming a grenade launcher at the crate she was standing behind. Emily didn't know what was in there, but if there was ammo or, God forbid, more grenades, they were all goners.

Doyle didn't care. Ideally, yes, he wanted to take the Prentisses alive. But if he couldn't, he was going to at least make sure that he made it hurt. And if he died, well, at least they wouldn't be able to have Declan either. He ordered Liam to take the shot but felt himself get tackled from behind as Morgan slammed into the both of them. Liam's shot went wide the explosion sent a wave of intense heat over all of them. When Doyle got to his knees, he saw that the staircase leading to the upper walkway had been blown apart and was on fire, as were various spots on the floor that must have had traces of gunpowder or gasoline on them. Best of all was the look on Emily's face when she looked up and saw what Doyle already had: Anna was lying crumpled and unmoving on the walkway, having been blasted away from the staircase. He ignored the brawl going on between Liam and Morgan and raced toward Emily, vaulting anything in his way. He leapt over the last crate separating them and tackled her, landing a punch in the same spot where he'd shot her earlier. She was on her back with one of his knees on either side of her. He ducked down so he wouldn't be visible to anyone coming through the door. He wrapped a hand around her throat and slammed her head into the floor.

"How're you doing, luv?" he hissed. "This is where it ends for you, Emily." The flames of the surrounding fires were creeping closer to them and he felt sweat bead on his face and arms. Emily spluttered and he squeezed her neck harder, his imminent victory filling him with even more strength.

"Emily!" he heard a shout from the door and realized with a start that the gunfire had stopped. He'd been planning on using the firefight as a cover while he escaped. Time for Plan B. He moved his hand from her throat to cover her mouth and leaned down to whisper in her ear.

"Don't make a sound, or I'll kill them all."

Hotch's eyes scanned the room, the smoke and flames making it hard to see anything. He'd seen the explosion; seen Anna thrown backwards when the staircase exploded. The pain in his ear had been nearly unbearable and he'd been thrown off his feet by the force of it. When he'd gotten up, Doyle had been gone. Hotch didn't know whether he hoped he was still here, hiding, or whether he'd left, which would give everyone else more of a chance to get out alive. He motioned for Rossi and Reid to circle to the left while Morgan and JJ went right; he headed straight through the middle of the room. To his left and right, the flames danced and spread; it was only a matter of time before there were more explosions. He saw Morgan's head tilt up as he passed under the walkway where Anna's body was lying but he snapped back into focus, realizing that there was nothing he could do for her now.

"Emily, answer me!" Morgan demanded. Doyle shifted, understanding that before long, they would be seen. He pulled Emily to a sitting position and, pressing his gun to her temple, stood, holding her in up front of him.

"Guns down, agents," he said smoothly. "The world's already lost one Prentiss today; I don't think you want to lose another." He smirked at the look on Hotch's face, knowing that the agent would do what he was told. He pressed the gun against Emily's head harder and she grimaced, pulling weakly at Doyle's arm with her left hand as her right arm dangled uselessly by her side, but she was too weak to have any real impact.

Hotch lowered his gun first, followed by Rossi and JJ. Reid was next, though an intense look of regret was etched on his face. Morgan held out, wanting to be able to damn the consequences and end the bastard's life but he couldn't. As one, they all set their weapons on the floor and looked at Doyle expectantly.

"Very good. You lot can follow directions nicely."

"What now?" Hotch asked.

"Emily and I are leaving."

"Like hell," Reid spat.

"Come now, Doctor. That's so out of character for you. Feeling emotional, are we?"

Reid didn't say anything. "How far do you think you're going to get?" Rossi asked conversationally.

"Far enough," Doyle said, taking a step toward the door, then ducking as an explosion pierced the air, sending him and Emily flying forward. One of the crates of weapons had exploded, sprinkling them with debris and spreading the flames even further. JJ and Hotch had moved toward Doyle in the ensuing confusion but hadn't made it more than a few steps before Doyle's yell stopped them. Emily was lying on her stomach with Doyle's knee in her back and his gun pressed into her neck. "Not another step!" He hollered.

They backed off, hands raised in an apologetic gesture as Doyle hoisted Emily to her feet. Her eyes locked on Hotch's and he chose to ignore the resignation he saw there.

"You're not leaving with her," he told Doyle.

"I can take it, Hotch," she interrupted. "Let us leave."

He shook his head. "Not again." He would not let her sacrifice herself to save them again. No way in hell.

"What are you going to do about it?" Doyle taunted. "You're unarmed and you're hindered by the fact that you give a damn about her. Personally, I don't care whether she dies here or five hundred miles from here."

"What about you? You know that if you kill her here, you won't live long enough to feel the triumph," JJ called out to him.

Doyle shrugged. "I guess I'm putting faith in the fact that you won't be able to live with yourselves if you get her killed. Who knows? Maybe I'll drop her off right down the road and hunt her down all over again. The thrill of the chase and all that. Now move aside."

His glare never wavering, Hotch stepped to the side. Doyle pushed Emily past him and she stretched the fingers of her right hand so that they grazed his as she passed him. It was her way of saying goodbye, he knew, and he was forced to watch as Doyle turned so he and Emily were walking backwards toward the door. He stopped without warning and Hotch tensed, unsure of what was coming.

"You know, I've changed my mind." He released Emily and shoved her toward Hotch. The movement was unexpected and she stumbled, her injured leg giving out completely. Hotch caught her right before she hit the floor and wrapped his arms around her to keep her standing.

"Nope, stay right where you are," Doyle aimed his weapon at Rossi and Reid, who'd begun moving closer to him. He swung his gun from them over to Morgan and JJ who'd been doing the same. He lowered it eventually and leered at Emily. "Get well soon, luv. Wouldn't want you tired out the next time we meet." He kept walking backwards but then stopped again, a look of pure hatred on his face. "On second thought..." he raised his gun and aimed it at Emily and several things happened in rapid succession. Hotch spun around with Emily still in his arms so that he was between the gun and her, and he heard the shot erupt. He felt no pain and turned back around in a panic, knowing that Doyle wouldn't have missed from such a short distance and dreading finding out which of his team had been hit. To his surprise, Doyle's gun had been knocked out of his hand, which was bloody and mangled. Another shot rang out, and then another, both lower abdomen shots. Doyle cupped his arms around his stomach and looked down in surprise, stumbling backward. Two more shots, in the chest this time, and then, just as he looked up, he took one to the head and finally Doyle fell to the ground. JJ approached him to check for a pulse and found none; she looked up to the source of the shots and Hotch followed her gaze.

Up on the walkway, Anna still had her weapon aimed at Doyle. She was lying on her stomach and had evidently slid herself across the metal bridge to get to the gun that had flown out of her hands after the explosion. It clattered down a hundred feet and hit the floor as she appeared to pass out again; her head came to rest on her outstretched arm just as another explosion occurred, followed by two more. It was getting more dangerous to stay here by the second and they needed to get out now.

"Anna!" Emily screamed. "Anna, wake up!"

She did so with a groan and Morgan rushed over so she could hear him better. "I'm coming to get you, stay there!" He ran to the shell of the staircase but was pushed back by the heat and the flames. He held his shirt over his mouth and nose but it did little to stop the smoke that assaulted him. Determined to get her out alive, he continued toward the flames but found that the stairs themselves had been obliterated by the grenade. Backtracking, he searched for any other way to get to Anna. The bars she'd used to reach the vertical chain had been knocked loose by the force of the explosions, so they were no longer an option. Helplessly, he looked up at her and then back to the rest of the team.

"Get out of here!" he yelled at them, motioning toward the door. "I'll get her out!"

"I'm not leaving!" Emily shouted back.

"Emily, go. I will get her out of here," he promised.

Emily looked helplessly up at Anna, who had gotten to her knees and was looking down at her.

"Go," Anna called out hoarsely. "Emily, get out. I'll be fine. I love you."

Emily shook her head even as Hotch and Reid pulled her backward. She fought them the whole way. "Anna, don't do this!" she screamed. "Hotch, let go of me! I'm not leaving!" She was close to hysterical, she knew, and she might have been sobbing, something that had only happened one other time in her life. It was the look on Anna's face that told her everything. She wasn't going to get out. And by the looks of it, Morgan wasn't going to let her die alone. "Morgan!" she yelled helplessly as JJ and Rossi closed in in front of her, shielding her view. The five spilled out into the parking lot and headed away from the building. When he realized that they were dragging her more than helping her walk, Hotch scooped her up in his arms. She protested but wasn't strong enough for it to make any real difference. Emily could see the ocean now, the waves splashing innocently against the side of the building. She could see the flames leaping through the windows and see the smoke pouring from the building. Hotch set her on her feet and she darted toward the building, making it only a few steps before she fell. Hotch caught up to her and shielded her body with his as another explosion hit the air.

"Emily, stop," he told her softly. "Stop."

She collapsed against him and pressed her head to his chest. "Hotch, you can't let this happen," she begged. "Do something." Hotch's only response was to press a hand to her shoulder in an effort to stop the bleeding.

* * *

Morgan's eyes were locked on hers. "Jump," he told her.

"From this height?" she asked incredulously. "Derek, get out of here."

"I'll catch you."

"I have no doubt."

"Don't you trust me?"

"Of course I do. It's my aim I don't trust."

"I'm not leaving without you."

"Derek, I need you to go." He shook his head defiantly and she plowed on. "I need you to take care of Emily. Be there for her. She can't lose both of us, Derek."

"She's not going to lose either of us."

She smiled at him. "Go. I'll be fine. Make sure Emily's okay. You're her partner, and she needs you. She needs you to keep her grounded and to make her laugh and to be there to call when she has nightmares."

"She needs you for that."

"Not just me. You can do this. Get out of here." She was determined not to let the tears fall. "I love you."

Morgan ran his hand over his head. "Anna-"

"Please go. I can't have this on my conscience. Tell me you love me and then get your ass out of here."

"I love you."

"I'm flattered. Now go," she said, much more calmly than she felt. He backed away with his eyes still locked on hers. He was almost to the door when she called out.

"Derek! How do you feel about the express elevator?"

"What are you talking about?" He followed her gaze, which was focused on the large window at the end of the walkway.

"This side of the building faces the water, right?" She slung her right arm; the one not burned by the blast, over the railing and hauled herself to her feet.

"You're not serious," Morgan called to her, even as she backed herself up closer to the flaming staircase. "I thought you were scared of the water."

"Absolutely terrified." _But I'm more terrified of letting Doyle win,_ she thought to herself.

"Can you do it?"

She nodded. "I can."

"Give me a fifteen second head-start," he said. "I'll be there when you hit the bottom."

"I know," she told him as he sprinted out of the building. She counted to fifteen in her head and raised up on the balls of her feet. "It's just another vault," she told herself. Picking up speed as she went, she hit the window with her shoulder first and crashed through it, falling for what seemed like forever before plunging into the icy depths below. The cold was a shock to her body and she realized that she'd forgotten to take a breath when she jumped. But the cold was numbing her pain and it was numbing her. It was calmer than she thought it would be, drowning. Not bad at all.

* * *

Rossi saw him first. Morgan came flying out of the entrance to the warehouse solo. "Where is she?" Emily asked desperately, springing to her feet as though she hadn't been shot twice, though Morgan ignored her and kept running. Reid caught on first and followed in his footsteps; the pair ran around to the side of the building. One arm around each Hotch and Rossi with JJ in front of them, Emily followed them. Their attention was directed upward when one of the windows blew outward, presumably from another explosion, and that was when they got it too. Anna's body fell as if in slow motion and she hit the water feet first but didn't resurface. Morgan and Reid dove in after her and swam to where she had hit the water. The current was stronger than Morgan had thought it would be and he felt himself getting pushed and pulled from all sides. He dove under the water and grabbed blindly in front of him. He felt his hand brush something soft and he swam toward it. Hair. He resurfaced for a brief second to get air and dove back down, this time bringing Anna up with him. Reid held her head above the water, keeping it as stable as possible while Morgan wrapped an arm around her waist and swam her backward toward the flaming inferno that was once a shipping warehouse. JJ and Rossi bent down to grab her arms and hoist her out of the water before helping Reid and Morgan out. Emily knelt next to her and grabbed one of her freezing hands with her own.

"She's not breathing," she said, panic rising in her voice. Ignoring the overwhelming sense of deja vu he felt, Morgan started chest compressions while Hotch breathed for her. After a few minutes, Anna started coughing up water. Emily cradled Anna's head in her hands and leaned over to press her forehead to Anna's. "You're going to be fine, Anna Banana."

Anna's eyes fluttered open and she took in the crowd around her, noting with surprise that Reid was soaking wet.

"Jeez Reid. You must really want that five hundred I owe you." Reid smiled, more out of relief than anything else and Anna closed her eyes again.

"No, Anna, stay awake," Emily commanded, having a hard time following her own instructions. She'd lost a lot of blood.

"Kay," Anna mumbled, forcing her eyes open for the briefest second before they slid shut again. They heard the sound of sirens in the distance; the cavalry that Garcia had no doubt called in was on its way.

The ambulances screeched to a halt and paramedics burst out of both of them, wheeling stretchers and bags of equipment to where the team was huddled. Emily was slumped against Hotch and she looked like she was about to pass out. The medics lifted her onto the gurney and pressed bandages to both wounds. Hotch got to his feet and climbed into the ambulance behind her while the other pair of medics wrapped Anna in a blanket and loaded her into the other ambulance. Morgan rode with her, having ignored the blanket he was offered.

Rossi, Reid, and JJ ended the caravan, following both ambulances in the SUV they'd arrived in. Reid, unlike Morgan, had accepted the offered blanket and was changing into dry clothes in the back seat.

"What do you think their chances are?" JJ asked, as Reid buttoned his shirt. Jumping in before medical statistics were spouted off, Rossi answered.

"I wouldn't count them out. They're both strong and they're both stubborn."

"But so was Ian Doyle," Reid pointed out from the back seat. "And look where that got him."


	24. Chapter 24

Emily lost consciousness right after the ambulance started moving and they whisked her to surgery as soon as they got to the hospital. The team spent a long night in the waiting room and talking to the doctors and nurses as one large group because, though no one said it out loud, no one could forget what had happened last time. Sometime around four in the morning, a short, balding and bespectacled doctor walked into the waiting room.

"Anna Prentiss?" he asked, appearing startled by the fact that all six of the waiting room's inhabitants stood at once. Hotch flashed his credentials and introduced himself. Morgan would have done it, but his creds had been in his pocket when he dove into the water and were no longer legible.

"How is she?" Hotch asked.

"She has a long road of recovery ahead of her. She sustained first and second degree burns over fifteen percent of her body, several cracked ribs and a broken foot, multiple breaks in her left arm, and multiple bruises and contusions on the rest of her body, including what appear to be electrical burns. The good news is that she's breathing on her own right now, which we weren't sure she would be able to do." He looked up in thinly veiled curiosity. "There aren't any notes about the circumstances surrounding the injuries..." he trailed off at a look from Morgan and cleared his throat. "Unimportant. Anyway, she's going to be fine, but she needs to stay put for a while. If you have any questions, have the nurses page me."

"Can we see her?" Reid asked.

"We had to surgically piece her foot back together and put some pins in her arm; we also have her sedated right now. Burns are particularly painful and too much movement can delay the healing process."

"That didn't answer my question," Reid pressed.

"As long as you understand that she's in no shape to be questioned, I don't see any reason why your presence would be a problem," he said, misunderstanding the reason behind the presence of five FBI agents and an analyst in the waiting room. "Room 1040." He bowed his head slightly and left.

"Go," Hotch told Morgan. "We'll let you know." Morgan nodded his thanks, making it halfway to Anna's room before he realized that Reid was trailing behind him. He looked over his shoulder curiously and Reid shrugged.

"I want to make sure you don't put your fist through another wall."

Morgan chuckled but didn't question Reid's real motives. They reached Anna's room and paused in the doorway, taking in the heavily bandaged figure lying in the bed. Morgan strode in and grabbed her unbandaged right hand while Reid walked around to her other side and sat down by the bed. Seeing that Morgan was apparently at a loss for words, he spoke up.

"Considering the circumstances, I think I'll forget the five hundred you owe me," he joked softly before noticing that Morgan was in his own world entirely. They stayed like that for the better part of an hour until JJ appeared in the doorway.

"Emily's doctor is here."

Morgan squeezed Anna's hand gently and followed JJ back to the waiting room with Reid right behind him. Both nodded at the exhausted brunette dressed in scrubs who was standing just inside the room and she started speaking.

"Emily sustained two bullet wounds," she started, wasting no time on pleasantries or introductions. "The one in her shoulder was a through and through and did no major damage. The bullet in her leg missed her femoral artery but she lost a lot of blood nonetheless. We were able to stop the bleeding during surgery but by that point some of her organs had begun shutting down. Right now, we're transfusing her in the hopes that her organ function will pick back up. Unfortunately there's no way to predict what's going to happen."

"What are her chances?" JJ asked.

The doctor didn't mince words. "She's in bad shape, but she's strong. I'm cautiously optimistic," she concluded. "The next twenty-four hours are crucial." Her beeper sounded and she apologized. "I have to go. If you have any questions, the nurses can answer them. She's in and out right now, you can see her briefly. ICU 1075." She left, leaving the team's words of thanks behind her.

As a whole, the team made the trek to Emily's room, which happened to be right down the hall from Anna's. Emily's ICU room was large enough to accommodate scores of machines and other equipment that she didn't need at the present moment, so there was more than enough room for the team to crowd in. Hotch stood at the foot of her bed, leaving Garcia and Rossi to hold her hands on either side. She blinked herself awake at their touch and stirred restlessly.

"Settle down Em. You're in the hospital," JJ told her.

"Anna?" she struggled to make her eyes focus.

"She's just down the hall, cupcake," Garcia reported. "The doctors say she'll be fine."

Emily nodded against her pillow. "Thank you seems inadequate," she told them weakly. "And so does I'm sorry."

"Try, 'I'm sorry for lying to you for years, then for telling you some of the truth but lying about the rest of it, letting you think that I was a child-murdering monster, then letting you think that I was dead, and in the midst of all of it, getting you entangled with an arms dealer with no morals that would have gladly killed all of you to get to me.'" Reid suggested, though his tone wasn't entirely un-kind.

"What Reid said," Emily deadpanned. "Not all of us have an eidetic memory." A few seconds of silence passed. "Guys, you know I'm not good at apologies. What I'm trying to say is-"

"Don't over-exert yourself, Princess," Morgan interjected, setting his hand gently on her forehead. "You don't have to apologize."

With that, Emily's eyes slid shut and she fell into a sleep that was somehow more restful than any other she'd had for the past eight years.

* * *

A constant stream of visitors flooded the two rooms for the next week. The doctors had decided to keep Emily for further treatment much to her chagrin, but Hotch and Rossi had convinced her to stay put, as the entire team was on leave pending the usual internal investigation. Anna was kept under sedation for five days, until the burned skin had healed enough to withstand normal movement. Emily had insisted on being in Anna's room as much as possible and when Anna finally woke up, Emily's was the first face she saw, though she also noted Rossi and JJ dozing in recliners while Reid, Garcia, and Morgan were huddled on the couch.

"Hey," Emily said quietly, leaning forward in the wheelchair she was sitting in. Her IV cart was standing next to her and she slid it closer to the bed so she could push Anna's hair back from her face.

"Hi," Anna muttered sleepily.

"How do you feel?" Emily asked.

"Like an over-cooked marshmallow," her words were still a little slurred from the meds.

Emily cracked a smile. "Well, your sense of humor's still intact. Which is a good thing if you like lame jokes. Want some water?" At Anna's nod, she lifted a cup of water so that the straw was right next to her mouth. Anna sipped it gratefully.

"You love my jokes," she said more clearly, surveying herself and noting the bandages that wrapped her left arm, leg, and foot. "What's the verdict?" she inquired, placing a hand on her sore ribs.

"Lots of breaks; your ribs, your arm, and your foot. Other than that, just burns and bruises. Doctor says you'll be fine."

"And you?"

"Same."

"Doyle?"

"He's dead," Hotch spoke up from her other side; she hadn't even noticed him. "You're a good shot."

She shook her head slowly. "No, I just had the right motivation."

Their conversation had awoken the others, who now crowded around the bed. Anna's eyes sought Morgan out. "Thanks for catching me," she told him.

"Any time," he promised. "I promise you that."

* * *

Emily was released from the hospital a week later, though the doctors refused to release Anna, which did not go over well.

"How is that you get _shot_ – twice – and I have to stay here longer than you?" she'd pouted uselessly.

"Stop whining. You sound like a toddler," Emily told her, laughing when Anna stuck her bottom lip out in an exaggerated pouty expression. "Besides, it's not like I'm going to go anywhere." She leaned back in the chair she'd pulled next to Anna's bed, having sent Morgan and everyone else home to get some sleep.

"Fine," Anna finally said. "But it's still not fair."

"Life's not fair," Emily said, uttering the phrase their mother used to throw in their faces when one of them was upset.

Anna got quiet. "Does she know that you're not dead now?"

"Well, I called her the other day."

"And?"

"Scared the hell out of her. I thought about convincing her that I was a spirit or something, but then I realized that I'm far too mature for that."

Anna snorted. "Sure you are. How much did you tell her?"

"I told her just enough to satisfy her need to not know anything."

"Meaning?"

"I told her there was a paperwork screw up."

"And she bought that?"

"Well, it was me against the Brazilian general on the other line, so I don't think she was overly focused."

"Shocker," Anna deadpanned, raising her eyebrows.

"Why are we talking about her?"

"I have no clue. Let's talk about something else. How's Hotch?"

Emily smiled. "He's fine."

"Not what I meant."

"That's all you're getting."

Anna shook her head. "I don't think so. You're blushing."

"Am not. I don't blush."

"Yeah you do."

"No I don't."

"Fine. Your cheeks just turn really pink. How's that?" Emily rolled her eyes and Anna pressed on. "Seriously, how are things?"

Emily recounted the conversation she'd had with Hotch a few days prior, when Jessica had brought Jack by to see her. After lots of hugs and promises to come make pancakes when she felt better, Jack had fallen asleep on her bed, his head resting on her thigh. Emily stroked his hair while he slept, not noticing the intense stare Hotch was directing at her.

"I get it, you know," he finally said softly.

She looked over at him curiously. "Get what?"

"Everything you did. To take Doyle down. To protect Declan."

Emily was quiet for a second. "Hotch, lying to you is the hardest thing I've ever had to do. You have no idea how much I wanted to tell you everything. I hope you know that it was never about trusting you."

"It was about you trying to protect everyone around you," Hotch concluded. "I get it."

"Not just everyone around me, Hotch. The people I love."

"And I make that list?" a smile played around his lips.

"Well, I don't know about you. But this kid does," she joked, pressing her hand to Jack's cheek. "And since you probably come as an all-or-nothing set..."

"You'll have to take both of us," he smirked. "And we love you too." He leaned in and pressed his lips to her temple and she leaned into him, feeling his strong arms wrap delicately around her. She felt like she could stay like that forever.

"Sounds like things are back on track," Anna said, thrilled at Emily's obvious happiness. She was more relaxed than Anna had seen her in a long time.

"What about you and Morgan?"

"It's like we never stopped being together. And I think he's forgiven me for breaking his nose," she laughed. "And he forgives you too, by the way."

"He told me," Emily said. "We talked yesterday." She'd talked with everyone on the team yesterday, in fact. Garcia, Rossi, and JJ had been the most readily accepting. It was Morgan and Reid's responses she was dreading. Because even though they'd accepted her ill-worded apology when they first saw her, she knew there was still a long way to go.

Reid had wandered into her room while she was sleeping and when she woke, he was just looking down at her.

"Hi, Doctor."

"I just have one question for you," he said coldly.

Emily nodded. "Shoot."

"Can you promise me that you're never going to leave without talking to me first again?"

Emily, who had expected something far angrier, was taken aback. "Of course, Reid."

"Good," he responded, turning his face away from her. But then, as when she'd first arrived back at the BAU, he surprised her, grabbing her hand and squeezing it tight. "I missed you," he told her.

"I missed you too," she answered, seemingly waiting for him to say something else. Reid, not always the best at interpreting social cues, faltered.

"What? Why are you looking at me like that?" he asked.

"I just...I expected you to lash out at me. To yell or something. You're so calm."

Reid nodded. "I did a lot of thinking. And I'm tired of being mad at you, especially when you haven't really done anything unforgivable."

"Well, thanks," Emily told him. "It means a lot."

Reid bobbed his head and dug around in his bag, unearthing a boxed DVD set. "I brought these," he nodded toward the television. "If you're bored."

"Oh God, you're a lifesaver. Pop one in, I'm going stir crazy." Reid obliged, settling in next to Emily just as Spock's face filled the screen.

* * *

Morgan's reaction was more along the lines of what Emily had expected. He stood at the foot of her bed and glared.

"Morgan, I-"

He held up a hand to stop her. "Let me." He started to pace. "Prentiss, I was your _partner_. I know you keep saying it wasn't about trust and maybe it wasn't, but what am I supposed to do with that? If I ran off every time a dangerous Unsub came along and I left you behind every time, you'd be pissed too, so don't even go there. You know what? I'm not even upset about what you did before you joined the team. I get it, it was CIA stuff and you didn't have a choice. But you _did_ have a choice when it came down to telling us about Doyle. I asked you – more than once – if something was up. Not once, not _once_ did you confide in me. And then you got _hurt_. If you had just told us, we would have helped you. We would have gotten to you in time to-" he broke off and Emily suddenly understood where this was truly coming from.

"You feel guilty," Emily assessed.

"Damn right I do!" he whirled around. "How the hell am I supposed to feel? It's my job to have your back, to know what's going on with you! I should have pushed you harder to get the truth out of you; I should have known that you would try to leave that day. I should have done something to stop you." He ran his hands over his head in frustration.

"Morgan, stop," Emily ordered. "My actions aren't your fault. You are _not_ responsible for what happened. You couldn't have stopped me even if you'd tried. You and I both know that."

"How do you know that?"

"Hello? I was a spy. I would have crawled out of the building through the air ducts or something." Morgan huffed what could have been a laugh. "Seriously, Morgan, you have to stop blaming yourself for this."

He walked so that he was standing next to her. "Don't do it again."

"Deal. There's only one arms dealer in my past, I swear." She held her right hand up as if to show her honesty. Morgan was quiet. "Morgan, name your terms and I'll do it. How do we move on from this?"

"Forgive me," he said quietly.

"What?"

"Forgive me for doubting you, for not backing you up, and for not getting to you in time."

"Derek, there's nothing to forgive," Emily said earnestly. "I'm the one that should be asking _you_ to forgive _me._ Not the other way around."

"I do forgive you," he said softly.

"And I forgive you," Emily finally said, seeing that the guilt truly was eating at him. "And you _did_ get to me in time. To both of us. Doyle would have killed us both if you hadn't gotten there when you did. And you saved Anna's life. You don't have anything else to atone for."

Morgan nodded. "Are you coming back?"

Emily thought about it. "Do you want me to come back?"

"I do. And so does everyone else. You're family, Prentiss. And we trust you."

"Then...yes. I'm coming back."

* * *

Anna was grinning widely at her when Emily finished recounting her conversations. "I told you."

"Told me what?"

"That you can trust your team."

"I never stopped trusting them. Or you, by the way."

"I know. Thanks for coming to get me," she said after a beat of silence.

"As if there was any way I wouldn't have."

"You know what this means right? Now that Doyle is dead?"

"What?"

"You don't have to be afraid anymore."

Emily nodded. "I know."


	25. Chapter 25

**We're here! The last chapter :( Thanks to everyone who's read and special thanks to those who reviewed and gave feedback. I truly hope that you all have enjoyed reading this as much as I've enjoyed writing it : )  
**

* * *

A few days later, Emily was intercepted by Anna's doctor as she walked to her room.

"Ms. Prentiss?"

Emily turned and offered a smile when she recognized him. "Yes?"

"I was just on my way to deliver the good news, but perhaps I'll let you do it for me. Anna's been healing nicely and as long as she promises to take it easy for a few weeks, I see no reason to keep her here further."

"You're discharging her?"

"As soon as she signs the appropriate paperwork, yes." The doctor smiled.

"I'll see that she gets it taken care of. Thanks." Emily shook his hand and they parted in opposite directions.

Emily paused in the doorway of Anna's room, taking in the scene before her. Anna was asleep, her head resting on Morgan's chest. One of his arms was curled around her shoulders, resting gently on her bandaged arm. Morgan had taken to either badging or sneaking his way into her room every night after visiting hours since she'd been here, though none of the nurses really cared. They were all women, Emily had noted wryly. The pair of them looked so peaceful that she almost didn't want to wake them.

"You left early this morning," Hotch said quietly from behind her. She masked her startled response well; she was still a little jumpy after everything that had gone down, which she hated, but even her compartmentalization skills were failing her. Doyle had that effect on people.

"Yeah. Sorry I didn't wake you, I thought you could use the sleep."

"I was up. But you were making such an effort to be quiet that I didn't want to burst your bubble," he smirked.

She elbowed him gently. "You should have," she answered, raising an eyebrow teasingly.

"Yes, I see that now," Hotch told her, leaning down to kiss her, the feel of his lips on hers reminding her of the tryst they'd enjoyed the night before. She pulled away with difficulty.

"Not here," Emily warned quietly, a smile on her face. "But there's a supply closet down the hall..."

Hotch shook his head at her half-serious suggestion. "As tempting as that is..." his arms snaked around her waist. "Good news?"

"She gets to go home today," Emily responded, leaning against Hotch and savoring the feel of his arms around her.

"It's about damn time," Anna muttered, not opening her eyes. Morgan cracked an eye and waved a hand at Emily and Hotch, who looked back at them in horror.

"How long have you been awake?"

"An hour or so. I was just too comfortable to move." She grinned, her eyes still closed. "And your conversation was far too interesting to interrupt. Go forge my signature on the paperwork so I can get out of here."

"Uh, no." Emily shot back. "You're a big girl, do it yourself."

Anna groaned and sat up slowly, gingerly repositioning her bandaged arm. "You're no fun."

Emily sighed in exaggerated sympathy. "Poor baby. All grown up and signing her own name." She laughed when Anna chucked a pillow at her head. "I'll get a nurse to bring it in."

"I'll go with you," Morgan told her, sliding off the bed and slipping his shoes on. He kissed Anna's cheek demurely and winked at Emily as if showing her how subtlety was done. She rolled her eyes at him.

"Come on, Romeo." They walked out of the hospital room in companionable silence that wasn't broken until after a nurse had been dispatched to get the paperwork ready.

"I want to ask you something," Morgan said suddenly.

"Okay."

He seemed to struggle to find the right words. "What do you think...I mean, I need your opinion on this."

"On what, Casanova?" she prompted, even though she knew what was coming. Garcia had called her last night. Emily flushed as she remembered trying to keep an even tone while Hotch deftly relieved her of her clothes.

Morgan caught her tone and his eyes narrowed. "She told you."

"Who told me what?" Emily asked, faux innocently.

"Garcia. She called you, didn't she?"

"Can you blame her?"

"Yes. I just wanted her opinion, not for her to broadcast it to the world."

"Morgan, last I checked, I was one person. Well, two," she amended. She'd told Hotch last night, right before they'd climbed into bed.

"Well, what do you think?"

"I think it's a great idea."

"Really?"

Emily nodded emphatically and laughed at the hopeful expression on his face. "Yes, really."

She was startled when Morgan pulled her into a bear hug, wrapping both beefy arms around her thin frame and lifting her off her feet like he hadn't done since before he'd found out about Doyle. Even more startling was the kiss he planted on her cheek after he set her gently back on her feet. "I'm glad you're back, Emily." His smile was genuine and she couldn't help but smile back at him.

They were interrupted by the nurse, who was wielding a stack of forms that Anna had to fill out. She handed them to Emily and wandered off in search of something more urgent to do. Emily and Morgan headed amicably back to Anna's room, bypassing Hotch who was talking quietly on his phone just outside the door. They found her propped up in bed and conversing with the rest of the team, who had apparently just arrived.

"Talking about anything good?" Emily cocked an eyebrow at them.

"Just telling them all those embarrassing stories from your childhood," Anna said sweetly.

"Uh, I seem to recall some pretty good stories about you, so I'd be careful what you say."

"Hey, I don't have to work with these guys every day. And besides, I've never accidentally mooned the Czar of Russia while I was doing cartwheels in the middle of the formal dining room during a state dinner, right before I knocked his soup into his lap."

"Okay, okay!" Emily ran to Anna's side and clamped her hands over her mouth. "Enough," she choked out, red with embarrassment.

"How old were you?" JJ asked with a grin.

"Ten," Emily answered, glaring at Anna and catching Hotch's eye as he reentered the room.. "And at least I've never delivered a ten-minute rendition of 'Jingle Bells' while I was wearing nothing but green body paint and a purple swimsuit because I thought it would be fun to pretend to be Barney. In front of forty-five assorted dignitaries that were in the middle of a heated discussion concerning oil prices."

Anna poked Emily in the side so that she moved away from her, releasing her mouth. "And who, dear sister, painted my back for me?"

"Who knocked me over while I was upside down and sent me knocking into the czar in the first place?"

"I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall of your mansion while you were growing up," Garcia said in awe.

Anna giggled. "No need. The Ambassador never said anything about it."

"She just glared," Emily finished, narrowing her eyes and pursing her lips in a perfect imitation of the look she often saw growing up.

Hotch made his way over to her. "Why do I feel like there is so much more to find out about you?"

Emily leaned into him, suddenly overcome with an strong desire to be alone with him and pick up where they'd left off last night.

"Who was on the phone?" she asked instead.

His lips thinned. "Strauss." The atmosphere in the room tensed. They'd yet to hear of any disciplinary action being taken against them and could only assume that nothing had yet been decided. Apparently that had changed.

"What did she say?" Rossi asked, the only one who appeared unruffled by the news.

"That we're to report to the office immediately," Hotch told them stoically.

"Now?" Reid and Morgan asked simultaneously.

Hotch gave a curt nod and turned to Emily. "She requested your presence too."

Emily faltered. "Hotch, I have to get Anna home-"

"I'll go with you," Anna interjected.

"No, you don't have to do that," Emily protested.

"You need to go home and lie down," Morgan agreed.

"Okay, number one, I'm fine. Number two, I want to meet the Ice Queen. Number three, I am tired of laying down. You people worry too much." She beckoned Emily closer with one hand. "Do you have the damn papers?"

Emily suppressed a grin at her sister's impatience and handed the papers over immediately, catching Morgan's eye and giving him a sly grin. His jaw clenched in response and Emily wanted to laugh out loud. She'd never seen Derek Morgan this nervous before. Across from her, Garcia grabbed his hand, knowing what was coming.

The rest of the team, all of whom had been informed by Garcia of what was going on at one time or another, watched closely as Anna signed form after form until finally she got to the one on the bottom; the one Emily and Morgan had slipped in there before they handed the clipboard over.

Anna read the title without a second thought and skimmed the form like she had all the others until a word jumped out at her. She went back and re-read the header and then looked up at Morgan in disbelief.

"Seriously?"

In response, he dropped to one knee as Garcia pressed a small box into his hand. He popped the lid, revealing a simple platinum band with an assortment of small diamonds clustered together. "It was my mom's," he told her speechless self before clearing his throat.

"Anna Prentiss, would you do me the honor of finally curing me of my bachelorhood?"

Not one to show emotion, she took a deep breath to control the wavering tone she knew her voice would have. "Of course I will," she grinned, offering him her hand so he could slip the ring on her finger.

It took Morgan a moment to process what she'd said and when he got it, he delicately slid the ring into place and leapt up, grabbing her face between his hands and kissing her deeply. The team broke into applause that continued until they finally pulled apart.

"Well," Anna said happily. "That was unexpected."

"I've wanted to do that since the first time I laid eyes on you."

"Even though you thought I was a rich snob that exploited the working class?"

"Yes," Morgan said earnestly. "Even then." He hugged her again but Rossi cleared his throat.

"I hate to break up the love fest, but don't we have an Ice Queen to defrost?" He raised his eyebrows at Hotch, who nodded.

"We'll give you a few minutes," he told Anna and Emily and the team filed out.

"You're okay with this?" Anna asked once the door was shut. "Me and Derek?"

"Completely," Emily told her. "I'm happy for you."

"I'm happy for me too. Now if we could just get a matching ring on your finger..."  
"We'll see," Emily said with a smile. "Now get dressed. I can't wait to see what you make of Strauss."

"She'll love me," Anna declared, and Emily knew that was probably true. Anna could turn a "Yes Ma'am" into a "Fuck you" as well as she could, but Anna could also disarm even the most disagreeable of people. Emily probably could have too, except that she didn't have the patience for it.

"Confident much?" Emily smirked.

"Watch and learn, big sister. Watch and learn," Ann winked over her shoulder as she walked into the bathroom to get dressed. Emily shook her head in amusement; this would be interesting for sure.

* * *

Strauss was waiting for them in the conference room when they got to the BAU. She didn't look happy.

Biting her lip to fight a smile, Emily nudged Anna toward the Section Chief. Anna kicked her shin in response and strode forward determinedly.

"Section Chief Struass, I don't believe we've been introduced," Anna decided to forego the handshake and chose to wrap Strauss in a sisterly hug instead. "I _love_ your blouse," she whispered in her ear. "The color suits you." She pulled back and offered a disarming smile, pleased rather than put off by the startled look of annoyance on Strauss' face.

"Pleasure," Strauss said stiffly. Anna wasn't deterred. She'd broken tougher people than this. Strauss turned her attention to the team. "I could fire every single one of you right now and nobody would question the grounds." She let the words sink in. "You," she stabbed a finger at Emily, "led this team into what was not only a dangerous situation but one that was completely unsanctioned by this department. Then, you faked your death, an event that cost this unit funds, manpower, and precious time. And the rest of you not only neglected to inform me of what was going on, but you put your cases on hold to devote yourselves to a case that was not even under the control of this agency!" She paused to take a breath.

"Well, technically we weren't on a case when Emily got back," Reid threw out, clamping his jaw shut as soon as Strauss turned to glare at him specifically.

"The Senate committee wanted charges brought up against all of you," Strauss continued. "They're not happy about forking out the costs of ex-Agent Prentiss' funeral. They seem to think it was wasteful and borderline fraudulent." She let that sink in. "However. It also seems that you have friends in very, very high places. The committee has agreed to hold off on any disciplinary action for now, pending an in-depth review of your performance over the next few weeks." An unconscious sigh of relief went through the room. She took a step forward. "I highly suggest that you solve cases with the same determination and alacrity you showed after Agent – ex-agent Prentiss," she corrected herself. "Left. Speaking of, Prentiss, should you so choose, your spot on this team was never filled," her eyes flickered to Hotch. "So it's yours if you want it."

Emily was taken aback. "May I think about it?"

"Of course," Strauss granted, surprised. There was a beat of tense silence.

"I'm in," Emily declared.

"Good. I'll get the paperwork. If you'll excuse me." Strauss strode past them all but stopped with her back to the door.

"It was on-sale at Saks, by the way," she said in Anna's direction. "And flattery will get you nowhere with me." She smirked and left, leaving Emily to elbow Anna in the ribs.

"I watched. What exactly was I supposed to learn?"

"Hey, these things take time," Anna said calmly, shrugging her shoulders. "We'll call it a work in progress."

"So, friends in very, very high places, huh?" Morgan quoted, turning to Emily.

"Don't look at me," she held up her hands. "I had nothing to do with it." She turned her head to look at Anna, who also held up her hands in mock surrender.

"I hate politics," she said convincingly. "But I'm good at it," she added sheepishly.

JJ knew exactly how she felt. "It's a gift and a curse," she smiled.

Anna nodded in agreement. "I wasn't going to let anything happen to a team this good."

"Who do you know with the power to influence a Senate committee?" Reid asked.

"Does it matter?"

"Yes."

Sighing, Anna pulled out her phone and dialed a number. She tossed the phone to Hotch, who caught it and turned on the speakerphone.

"White House switchboard. How may I direct your call?"

Hotch hastily ended the call and tossed the phone back.

"Are you serious?" Morgan asked incredulously.

"It was a matter of perspective," she insisted. "I laid out how certain actions were, while costly, an integral part of neutralizing the head of an illegal arms ring, which would potentially prevent a terrorist attack."

"That's a load of bull," Emily told her bluntly.

Anna shrugged. "Apparently it sounded good at the time." She turned to Hotch. "Are you angry? I apologize if I overstepped."

Finally he relaxed. "Just remind me to never get on your bad side." Easy laughter echoed in the room as the team realized that Ian Doyle wouldn't screw their lives up any more. Emily was coming back. She and Anna, and the rest of the team, were safe. There were no more secrets. And they'd done what they always did, protected an innocent person. In this case, a fourteen year-old boy named Declan.

"Anyone up for a beer?" Morgan asked.

Hotch's phone beeped, signaling a text. He read it, typed a reply and pocketed it.

"Anything important?" Morgan asked, picturing his fun evening out turning into a case-filled night drinking bad coffee.

Hotch nodded once. "Extremely." He looked over at Anna briefly.

"Sir, I haven't gotten any urgent requests," Garcia spoke up, confused.

"It's not case related." Hotch said cryptically; making Anna smile. Emily looked from one to the other, suspicion growing.

"What are you up to?" she asked.

"You'll see," Anna told her, squeezing her hand while staring out the window of the conference room.

They heard the faint ding of the elevator and, following Anna's gaze, everyone turned to look at the occupants who were getting off. Anna squeezed Emily's hand excitedly and raced out of the room as fast as her walking boot would allow. Ignoring the stares from other agents in the bullpen – and those in the conference room - she wrapped her arms around the tall, blonde, curly-haired teenager that had just walked in. He reciprocated the hug, nodding a few times in response to things Anna was telling him quietly. When she broke away, she hugged the kind-looking older woman that had accompanied him. They shared a brief conversation before Anna led them toward the conference room.

"Is that...?" Reid broke off, the first to speak. Garcia was already crying.

Hotch was looking at Emily who, rather than being excited, looked positively terrified. This was not the response he'd hoped for when he and Anna had hatched this plan. "What's wrong?"

"I can't do this, Hotch," Emily whispered, her voice wavering. She shook her head emphatically. "I can't."

"Why not?"

"He must hate me," she continued.

"Emily, after everything you did for him, how could he?" JJ asked.

"I'm the reason Ian's dead," she said quietly. "I took his father away from him and sentenced him to live in hiding indefinitely."

"That's Doyle talking," Rossi assured her. "Don't tell me you're letting him get through to you now."

Emily said nothing, tracking Anna, Declan, and Louise's progress through the bullpen with trepidation written all over her face. Without warning, Morgan stepped into her line of sight.

"Prentiss, look at me." When she didn't, he gently turned her chin so that her eyes met his. "You don't have anything to worry about. He didn't have to come here today; he wanted to. He wants to see you. And Emily, he forgives you for everything."

"How can you know that?" she asked defiantly.

"I just do," Morgan said. "Because I've forgiven you for everything and I know what that feels like. Declan feels it too, you can tell by looking at him. He doesn't look angry, he looks nervous. Emily, he's the reason Doyle went after you again and again, because you sacrificed yourself to save him. If anything, he feels guilty, and nervous that you'll reject him now. He needs you, Princess." He stepped aside right as the trio reached the door. Anna felt the tension in the room and noted Emily's panicked eyes. Rather than sending Declan running into her arms, she opted for a different approach.

"Everyone, this is Declan and Louise. Declan and Louise, this is the team responsible for granting you the freedom to not have to hide anymore." Her phrasing was deliberate, they knew. Declan moved immediately toward Emily but there was no malice in his stride. He stopped a few feet in front of her and faltered. Close up, she noted that he was a few inches shorter than her still, and his blue eyes seemed to pierce right through her. They were Ian's eyes. Emily tentatively reached out a hand and pushed the hair off his forehead, ruffling it a little, just as she'd done when he was a small child.

"I remember you," Declan said quietly, reaching his hand out to her. Emily took it and pulled Declan closer to her, pressing one hand to the back of his head and wrapping the other around his shoulders. She felt his arms around her waist and she kissed the top of his head, squeezing her eyes shut to keep the tears at bay.

"I missed you," Declan told her in a thick voice.

"I missed you too," she responded. "Every day."

"It's really over now?" Declan verified, looking up at her.

She nodded. "It is." Declan hugged her again and she looked over his head at the group standing around them. Garcia was still sitting at the head of the table, happy tears streaming down her face. JJ and Morgan stood on either side of her, JJ beaming, Morgan with a satisfied look on his face. Reid was grinning widely, for once not lost in his usual awkwardness and Rossi was standing off to the side, watching them silently. Anna and Louise were next to him, arms around each other's waists smiling broadly. Hotch was standing near Rossi, arms folded, a small smile on his face.

"What are you thinking?" Rossi asked him quietly.

"That this is by far the best family reunion I've ever been to," he deadpanned.

And so it was.


End file.
